[See  p.  23 


HE    CROSSED    HIS    ARMS    ON    THE    BACK    OF    THE    SEAT,    RETURNING 
STARE    FOR    STARE 


THE  PLANTER 


A  NOVEL 


BY 
HERMAN    WHITAKER 

AUTHOR   OF 

"THE   SETTLER" 


NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 
MCMIX 


BOOKS  BY 
HERMAN   WHITAKER 

THE  PLANTER Post  8vo    $1.50 

THE  PROBATIONER Post  8vo      1.25 

THE  SETTLER.      Illustrated.    .    .    Post  8vo      1.50 


HARPER     &     BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  X.  Y. 


Copyright,  1909,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHKRS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  March,  1909. 


TO 

MY    MOTHER 


259520 


CONTENTS 


I.  SHOWING  How  THE  WIND  WAS  TEMPERED  FOR 

THE  SHEARLING i 

II.  THE  YAQUIS 12 

III.  Los  ENGANCHADORES 27 

IV.  LA  LUNA 36 

V.  IN  WHICH  THE  SHEARLING  FEELS  THE  WIND  59 

VI.  NEW  ENGLAND  vs.  THE  TROPICS 76 

VII.  A  MAN-HUNT,  AND — 87 

VIII.  —THE  MAN 103 

IX.  A  VISIT 117 

X.  THE  TROPICS  vs.  NEW  ENGLAND 137 

XI.  CANCER  SWINGS,  AND — 153 

XII.  MR.  DAVID  GOES  DOWN,  AND — 177 

XIII.  — TAKES  THE  COUNT — 189 

XIV.  — BUT  COMES  BACK  SMILING 210 

XV.  CANCER  SUSTAINS  A  REVERSE 225 

XVI.  DAVID  CASTS  His  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS  253 

XVII.  A  SURPRISE 283 

XVIII.  — ITS  SEQUEL 296 

XIX.  THE   BREAD   FLOATS  OUT 318 

XX.  A  CHECK,  AND — 338 

XXI.  — HERTZER  TRIES  FOR  "MATE" 355 


CONTENTS 


XXII.  A  MOVE  IN  ANOTHER  GAME  .... 

XXIII.  THE  MOVE 

XXIV.  THE  GIRL  PLAYS  THE  MAN'S  GAME    . 

XXV.  THE  SHEARLING  DEVELOPS  HORNS     . 

XXVI.  WHEREIN  THE  "QUEEN"  is  "CASTLED" 

XXVII.  THE  TRAVAIL  OF  A  NIGHT     .... 

XXVIII.  THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS   .... 

XXIX.  THE  REALIZATION  OF  A  DREAM      .     . 


360 
380 
388 
406 

439 
470 
491 


PREFACE  TO  NEW  EDITION 

UNTIL  the  first  edition  of  this  book  called  forth 
expressions  of  incredulity  from  some  reviewers 
as  to  the  reality  of  certain  phases  of  life  which  are 
portrayed,  the  writer  had  a  very  decided  opinion  as 
to  prefaces,  deeming  them  usually  superfluous  and 
often  impertinent.  By  that  criticism,  however,  this 
opinion  has  been  modified  till  it  now  ranks  as  a  belief 
that,  while  never  fortunate,  a  preface  may  sometimes 
be  expedient. 

It  has  been  truly  said  that  we  learn  more  history 
from  our  novels  than  our  text -books.  One  might 
almost  add  that  our  fiction  exercises  a  wider  influence, 
is  more  powerful  to  mould  public  opinion,  than  the 
pronouncements  of  our  parliaments.  In  view  of  this 
influence,  it  behooves  a  writer  to  go  slowly  over  new 
ground,  and  to  make  certain  that,  while  depicting  life, 
his  book  reflects  the  truth.  Never  ought  he  to  be 
more  careful  than  when  exaggeration  or  distortions 
may  react  harmfully  upon  living  persons  or  enter 
prises  still  existent.  Once  sure  of  his  facts,  however, 
it  is  equally  incumbent  upon  him  to  hew  to  the  line, 
let  the  chips  fall  where  they  may. 

vii 


PREFACE    TO    NEW    EDITION 

As  to  the  view  of  the  Mexican  rubber  industry 
given  in  this  book,  it  may  fairly  be  claimed  that  the 
failure  or  suspension  of  over  two  hundred  companies 
in  the  last  three  years  justifies  the  verdict  delivered 
by  Ewing — that  the  "rubber  culture  is  individual 
business,  and  does  not  lend  itself  to  company  manage 
ment."  Such  a  disastrous  record,  involving  loss  to 
many  thousands,  might  be  accepted  with  a  certain 
amount  of  philosophy  had  it  rid  us  of  its  cause — 
the  rascally  promoter.  Unfortunately,  his  failure  in 
one  field  merely  directs  his  steps  to  another.  The 
rise  of  new  companies  proves  that  he  is  still  with  us, 
and  will  be  until  public  opinion  forces  a  law  to  end 
his  baneful  activities. 

Turning  from  his  fraud  and  chicanery  to  darker 
acts,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  "  contract- 
labor  system"  on  plantations  owned  by  Americans  is 
the  worst  form  of  slavery  that  this  world  has  ever 
seen.  Contrary  to  the  opinion  of  the  critic,  who 
thought  that  its  cruelties  had  been  accentuated  to 
procure  an  artistic  effect,  a  very  real  indignation  had 
to  be  continually  repressed  during  the  writing  of  this 
book  in  order  that  it  might  not  read  like  a  calendar 
of  crime.  The  facts  are  unprintable;  they  transcend 
belief.  The  statement  that  every  violent  crime  has 
been,  is  being,  and  will  be  again  perpetrated  in  the 
galeras  of  American  plantations  comes  well  within 
the  truth. 

Worse  even  than  the  lot  of  the  miserable  enganchar 
has  been  that  of  the  Yaqui — the  Yaqui  who,  after 

viii 


PREFACE   TO    NEW    EDITION 

centuries  of  struggle  and  for  no  other  crime  than 
patriotism,  has  been  sold  into  perpetual  slavery  to  the 
planters  of  Chiapas  and  Yucatan ;  sold  to  a  servitude 
of  so  vile  a  reputation  that  fifteen  men  and  women 
jumped  overboard  in  transit  to  Campeachy  from 
Vera  Cruz  last  year,  choosing  death  before  its  torrid 
rigors.  In  the  last  four  years  five  thousand  Yaquis — 
farmers,  laborers,  miners  —  have  been  expatriated 
under  conditions  that  were  rendered  unnecessarily 
cruel  by  the  spite  of  brutal  Mexican  soldiers.  Round 
ed  up  in  scores  while  their  men  were  off  at  the  mines, 
women  have  been  taken  away  on  the  trains.  In  the 
general  round-ups,  wives  were  separated  from  hus 
bands,  sisters  from  brothers,  children  from  mothers — 
infant  babes  were  torn  from  the  breast  and  left  behind 
on  the  ground  while  their  mothers  were  driven  away. 
The  deportation  was  carried  out  with  absolute 
brutality,  and  in  accordance  with  a  policy  that  aimed 
at  the  scattering  of  tribes  and  families.  Taken  all 
in  all,  the  tragedy  of  the  Yaquis  is  perhaps  without 
a  parallel  in  American  history. 

In  conclusion:  Other  critics  have  questioned 
whether,  if  aroused,  an  indignant  American  opinion 
could  affect  abuses  that  obtain  across  our  southern 
frontier.  It  could — in  two  ways:  First,  by  the  in 
tervention  of  stockholders  in  American  companies, 
who  have  been  hitherto  in  ignorance  of  labor  condi 
tions  upon  their  plantations.  Second,  by  reaction 
upon  Mexican  public  opinion.  Nations  which  are 
rising  to  a  higher  plane  are  invariably  exceedingly 

ix 


PREFACE    TO    NEW   EDITION 

sensitive  to  foreign  opinion,  and  this  is  especially  true 
of  Mexico,  whose  government  and  people  keep  always 
an  imitative  eye  upon  their  northern  neighbor.  In 
that  country  at  this  late  date  abuses  such  as  the 
"contract-labor"  and  Yaqui  slave  systems  could  only 
exist  in  a  hole  and  corner.  When  the  Mexican 
government  realizes  that  they  stand  forth  in  the 
open  light  of  day,  it  will  speedily  make  an  end  by 
enforcing  in  the  tropics  the  law  and  order  that  obtains 

all  over  the  "Plateau." 

H.  W. 


THE    PLANTER 


THE  PLANTER 


SHOWING  HOW  THE  WIND  WAS  TEMPERED  FOR  THE 
SHEARLING 

IF  the  cub  was  only  out  of  the  way,  J.,  I  believe 
the  widow  would  come  in?" 

Mr.  Jarvis  Osgood  — "  Osgood  &  Short,  Banking 
and  Farmers'  Loans,"  as  per  gilt  inscription  on  the 
plate-glass  window  —  closed  his  ledger  with  a  bang 
and  looked  at  his  partner  across  the  office.  Tall  and 
stooped,  in  Mr.  Osgood  fiery  red  hair  was  associated 
with  a  cold  eye  which  abundantly  advertised  the 
fact  that  the  warmth  of  feeling  popularly  attributed 
to  his  colors  was  here  entirely  lacking;  and  as  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  frowning,  his  lean  fingers 
weaved  in  and  out  in  a  manner  that  always  suggested 
surgeon's  practice  to  those  unhappy  debtors  upon 
whom  he  held  financial  post-mortem  examinations. 
He  was  gnawing  his  thin  mustache,  too — a  sign  of 
unusual  irritation. 

"I  called  round  there  to-day,"  he  went  on,  still 
i 


THE   PLANTER 

addressing  the  partner,  who  was  short  and  gross  as 
he  himself  was  thin  and  long,  "but  I  got  the  usual 
'David  thought  this,  and  David  thought  that,  and 
David  believed  t'other.'  If  he  were  only  out  of  the 
way!" 

"He's  not,"  Mr.  Short  laconically  answered. 

"No,  he's  not,  and  I  suppose  it  is  foolish  to  think 
of  it." 

Frowning  still,  Mr.  Osgood  picked  up  a  pam 
phlet  from  a  pile  at  his  elbow  and  began  to  idly 
turn  the  leaves.  Emblazoned  "  Verda  Rubber  Com 
pany"  in  gilt  on  its  back,  it  was  one  of  a  thousand 
that  were  pouring,  just  then,  from  the  presses  of  the 
country  which  had  been  recently  struck  by  the  rub 
ber  craze.  Rubber  !  rubber  !  rubber  !  The  promo 
ter's  golden  tongue  was  belling  it  full  and  free  in 
Maine  woods,  swamps  of  Missouri,  the  cotton  fields 
of  the  South.  Every  State — almost  every  town— had 
its  company;  and  as  Mr.  Osgood  was  a  particularly 
early  bird  with  a  keen  eye  for  the  very  earliest  worm, 
he  had  organized  the  first  in  Northfield,  Maine — also 
the  biggest  and  best,  as  was  abundantly  explained  in 
the  pamphlet. 

According  to  this,  the  company  held  five  thousand 
acres  of  land,  choicest  on  the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec, 
in  the  State  of  Vera  Cruz,  one  thousand  of  which  car 
ried  two-year-old  rubber,  also  the  finest  of  its  kind. 
One  share  of  the  company's  stock  represented  an 
acre  of  this  land,  and  its  price  would  be  used  to  clear, 
plant,  and  bring  it  to  bearing  at  six  years  old,  when 

2 


HOW   THE    WIND    WAS    TEMPERED 

the  first  tapping  would  repay  the  shareholder  his  en 
tire  outlay.  A  rosy  proposition;  but  there  it  was, 
worked  out  in  plain  figures,  which  never  lie  —  so 
many  trees  to  the  acre,  so  much  rubber  per  tree,  at 
such  a  valuation ;  all  you  had  to  do  was  to  reckon  up 
the  profits.  Never  was  such  an  offer!  The  pam 
phlet  declared  it  in  bold  type  broidered  with  letters 
from  eminent  citizens,  who  knew  the  firm  of  Osgood 
&  Short  to  be  of  spotless  reputation,  and  enticingly 
decorated  with  photographs  of  "  our  manager,  Mr. 
Meagher,"  posed  beneath  a  rubber- tree.  It  was  all 
so  complete,  compact,  such  a  parcel  of  truth,  that 
there  was  nothing  left  for  the  public  but  to  believe. 

And  it  had  believed,  backing  its  opinion  so  strongly 
that  the  firm  had  been  compelled  to  move  into  larger 
offices  and  to  add  two  typists  to  the  establishment  of 
one  clerk,  which  had  sufficed  for  the  easy  shaving 
of  farmers.  So  far,  however,  the  investors  had  all 
been  "instalment  people  " — small  fry,  mere  nibblers 
at  the  hook  which  Mr.  Osgood  had  baited  for  whale. 
He  had  hoped  to  get  Mrs.  Mann,  widow  of  a  well-to- 
do  lumberman,  into  the  company;  to  which  end — . 
though  not  naturally  of  a  religious  temperament — 
he  had  interested  himself  in  her  Sabbath-school  class 
for  the  past  year,  shepherding  it  forth  upon  many 
expensive  picnics.  But  whereas,  these  solicitudes  of 
his  had  undoubtedly  won  on  the  widow,  David,  her 
only  son,  had  proved  conservative  beyond  his  two 
and  twenty  years.  Returning  to  the  marine  simile, 
whenever  Mr.  Osgood  had  brandished  his  harpoon 

3 


THE    PLANTER 

for  a  kill,  the  calf  had  rushed  in  between  him  and  the 
mother  whale. 

"If  he  were  only  out  of  the  way!"  he  again  re 
peated. 

"Ain't,"  Mr.  Short  affirmed  once  more.  Then  as 
a  red  shock  of  hair  and  underlying  continent  of  Hi 
bernian  feature  protruded  from  behind  the  creak 
ing  door,  he  said,  sharply:  "This  is  a  private  office, 
my  man.  If  you  have  business  with  us,  apply  in  the 
next  room.  The  clerk  will — " 

But  just  then  Mr.  Osgood  leaped  from  his  chair. 
"Meagher!" 

"Meagher?"  Mr.  Short  echoed.     "Not  the—" 

" — manager,  yes."  Mr.  Osgood  nodded  irritably. 
"What  in  thunder  are  you  doing  here,  Meagher? 
When  did  you  arrive  ?  Who  did  you  leave  in  charge  ?" 

"Aisy,  aisy."  The  Irishman  grinned.  "Wan  at 
a  time.  Why  am  I  here  ?  You'd  better  be  asldn' 
that  av  the  Greaser  that  tried  to  hold  an  ante-mortem 
on  me.  'Tis  an  inquest  on  his  remains  they  held  in 
stead,  wid  so  many  witnesses  I  had  to  skip.  Guada- 
loupe,  the  mandador,  is  in  charge,  an*  Hertzer,  av  La 
Luna,  promised  to  ride  over  every  bit." 

"But  you  can  go  back?"  Short  questioned.  "I 
understand  a  little  thing  like  that  is  easily  settled 
down  there." 

"Not  if  thim  thaving  Jefe-Politicos  have  ye  sure- 
cinched.  Tin  years'  salary  wouldn't  plug  the  hole 
in  that  Greaser's  head.  No,  sir;  'tis  another  climate 
for  Andy  Meagher." 

4 


HOW   THE   WIND   WAS   TEMPERED 

Seating  himself,  he  grinned  again  at  the  senior  part 
ner,  who  coughed  uneasily,  and  said,  after  a  minute's 
musing:  "Um-m!  It's  unfortunate,  very  unfortu 
nate,  Meagher.  We  should  like  to  have  kept  you 
in  our  employ.  But  if  we  can  help  you — letters  of 
recommendation,  and  so  forth,"  he  hastily  added, 
"command  us." 

"Faith,  thin,  'tis  kind  av  you  to  be  saying  it, 
'specially  as  it's  the  very  thing  I'm  to  be  seeing  ye 
about.  Just  now  I'm  afther  heading  for  Peru. 
There's  gold  there,  on  the  plateau.  Injuns  bring  it 
out  to  the  coast  be  the  ton.  But  the  trip  '11  take 
money — eh?" 

Mr.  Osgood's  look  of  uncertainty  settled  in  un- 
happiness,  and  he  coughed  again  behind  his  hand. 
"Let  me  see:  our  last  draft  paid  your  salary  to  date, 
I  think?" 

The  Irishman  nodded.  "But  be  way  av  a  loan." 
Diving  into  a  huge  side-pocket,  he  fished  out  a  Verda 
prospectus.  "  Picked  this  up  in  a  barber  shop,  an' 
I  was  wondering  if  the  local  papers  wouldn't  like  an 
interview  from  a  man  that  had  been  down  there  ?" 

By  way,  perhaps,  of  a  change,  he  looked  at  Short, 
who  looked  at  Mr.  Osgood,  who  broke  an  ominous 
silence.  "Of  course,  we  didn't  intend  to  see  you 
stranded,  Meagher.  If  a  hundred  dollars — " 

"Five  hun'red  for  the  outfit,"  the  Irishman  calm 
ly  interrupted.  "Steamer  fare  an'  incidentals,  two 
hun'red  more.  Let's  say — seven-fifty." 

"Hell!"     Short  sprang  up,  his  gross  face  shaded 

5 


THE    PLANTER 

from  livid  to  black.     "What  kind  of  fools  do  you 
take  us  for?     We'll  shove  you  for  blackmail!" 

"Ye  will,  will  ye?"  Rising,  Meagher  shook  the 
pamphlet  under  his  nose,  then  turned  to  the  door. 

But  the  senior  partner  interposed.  "Don't  go, 
Meagher.  The  sum  you  mention  is  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  If  three  hundred — " 

"Seven-fifty,  an*  no  more  words  to  it." 

Mr.  Osgood  bowed  to  unkind  fate.  "Write  a  check 
for  the  amount,  J."  While  the  pen  was  scratching 
minutes  of  the  Irishman's  success,  he  ran  on:  "We 
don't  want  you  to  feel  that  this  was  obtained  un 
der  duress,  Meagher.  You  are  very  welcome  to  the 
accommodation.  No,  no!  we  won't  hear  of  a  note. 
Consider  it  as  our  testimonial  to  your  faithful  ser 
vice.  Good  luck  and  good-bye." 

"Might  have  been  worse,"  he  sighed,  coming  back 
from  the  door.  "If  he  had  the  wit  he  might  have 
bled  us  of  thousands.  As  it  is,  he'll  surely  get  killed 
in  Peru.  What  is  more,  I  rather  believe  that  we  can 
turn  this  to  advantage.  Why  not  make  young  Mann 
plantation  manager?" 

Short  grunted.     "That  milksop?" 

"Yes,  he's  been  coddled  to  death.  But  he  never 
took  to  the  process,  and  I  believe  he'd  jump  at  the 
chance  to  break  mamma's  apron-strings." 

"Good  and  sickly  down  there,  too,"  Short  mused. 

But  Mr.  Osgood,  who  kept  the  upper  chambers  of 
his  mind  swept  and  garnished,  waved  away  the  evil 
suggestion.  "On  the  contrary,  J.,  the  climate  is  beau- 

6 


HOW   THE    WIND    WAS   TEMPERED 

tiful,  or  I  wouldn't  consider  it.  I  think,"  he  added, 
reaching  his  overcoat  from  its  peg,  "that  I  will  drop 
in  on  my  way  home." 

Though  Northfielders  spoke  pridefully  of  their 
town  as  "the  city,"  one  could  hardly  pass  the  length 
of  its  principal  street  without  coming  under  observa 
tion  of  a  majority  of  the  inhabitants.  Wherefore,  it 
happened  that  as  Mr.  Osgood  paced  along  through 
dusk  ladened  with  the  odors  of  coming  spring,  his 
footfall  penetrated  to  a  parlor  where  David  Mann  was 
closeted  with  r,  pretty  girl,  and  where,  had  the  banker 
but  known  it,  events  were  shaping  themselves  to  fur 
ther  his  philanthropic  purposes. 

"  Why,  David,"  the  girl  exclaimed  even  as  the  bank 
er's  footfall  died,  "I  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
marrying — your  mamma!" 

The  young  man  winced.  For  while  not  necessarily 
destructive  of  the  suit  he  had  just  pleaded,  her  words, 
when  delivered  minus  a  blush  and  plus  a  giggle,  hurt 
a  self-esteem  already  too  sensitive  to  its  own  de 
ficiencies.  Of  medium  height,  his  figure  was  slight 
—  though  spare  described  it  better  ;  for  his  frame 
predicated  bulk  and  strength  strangled  by  coddling 
from  the  cradle.  Very  religious,  his  mother  had 
tried  to  force  his  youthful  clay  into  ecclesiastical 
mould.  He  had  had  Joseph  and  Benjamin,  in  scarlet 
and  ochre,  for  early  companions,  and  had  grown  up 
in  companionship  of  the  apostles  —  goodly  enough 
fellowship  for  bearded  age,  but  somewhat  depressing 

7 


THE    PLANTER 

to  verdant  youth.  It  speaks  for  some  germs  of  jovial 
sin  inherited  from  the  lumberman,  his  father,  that 
with  such  a  start  he  should  have  fallen  as  far  short  as 
a  law-office  of  the  ministry  at  which  his  mother  aimed 
him.  Yet  the  print  of  her  thumb  showed  in  his 
quiet  reserve,  studious  air  (that  was  accentuated  by 
glasses,  which  were  due  to  her  anxiety  rather  than  any 
real  need),  and  a  womanish  texture  of  skin.  But  for 
a  jaw  that  was  perpetually  at  outs  with  his  otherwise 
peaceful  features,  he  might  have  posed  as  the  arch- 
type  of  the  paragon  known  to  old  ladies  as  "a  nice 
young  man";  but  the  prominence  of  this  feature  de 
barred  him  forever  from  that  innocent  company. 

The  said  feature  now  took  command  of  his  face 
as  he  rose  and  faced  the  girl.  "I  didn't  ask  you  to 
marry  mamma,  Kate.  But  since  I'm  so  perfectly 
ridiculous — good-night !" 

Her  giggles  died,  and  she  jumped  up  as  he  flung  out 
of  the  room.  "David!  David!  I  didn't  mean  to 
offend — "  Then,  as  the  door  banged  in  her  face,  she 
gasped,  stared,  then  broke  into  a  little  laugh  which 
yet  expressed  admiration.  "My,  what  a  look!  If  he 
could  live  up  to  that,  one  might  take  him  seriously." 

Unconscious,  however,  that  honors  lay  with  him, 
David  flung  down  the  street  toward  the  fate  the 
banker  had  in  kindly  preparation.  "I'm  spoiled," 
he  groaned  —  "a  milksop,  to  be  laughed  at,  spurned 
by  every  healthy  woman.  I  won't  stand  it  any  long 
er.  I'll  get  out,  I'll — I'd  sooner  be  a  tramp  than  a 
softy — I'll  leave  home." 

8 


HOW    THE    WIND    WAS    TEMPERED 

And  while  he  fretted  and  fumed,  Mr.  Osgood  was 
pursuing  the  even  tenor  of  his  own  argument  in  the 
widow's  parlor.  "Why,  my  dear  lady,"  he  was  say 
ing,  "it  is  a  lazy  dollar  that  will  not  turn  more  than 
four  per  cent.  Invested  with  us,  your  capital  would 
double,  treble,  quintuple,  in  as  many  years.  You 
would  be  so  wealthy  that  some  of  us  who  now  en 
joy  your  friendship  would  feel  diffident  about  press 
ing  our  acquaintance." 

Very  pretty  at  twenty,  at  forty-five  the  widow 
was  comely  enough  to  warrant  the  simper  she  ac 
corded  to  his  sentimental  look.  "I'm  sure  no  change 
of  fortune  could  affect  our  friendship,  Mr.  Osgood." 

Bowing,  he  ran  on:  "Then  think  what  a  power 
wealth  can  be  in  good  hands — -and  our  church  so 
badly  needs  a  Dorcas." 

"I  should  like  to  —  very  much."  She  simpered 
again  as  bright  visions  of  herself,  a  patron  of  home 
and  foreign  missions,  floated  through  her  mind.  "I 
trust  your  judgment;  feel  that  I  may  depend  upon 
it — implicitly.  But  David  is  so  stubborn.  You  see, 
I  have  always  regarded  the  property  as  being  held 
in  trust  for  him,  and  I  do  not  like  to  run  altogether 
counter  to  his  wishes." 

"Exactly,  exactly;  and  it  does  you  credit."  Mr. 
Osgood  knew  when  to  pause,  and  he  turned  to  the 
second  count  in  his  argument  just  as  the  outer  door 
swung  under  David's  hand.  "By-the-way,  we  need 
a  manager  for  the  plantation,  and  Short  suggested 
that  David  might  like  the  place.  The  salary  is  not 

9 


THE    PLANTER 

very  high.  A  hundred  and  fifty  a  month  the  first 
year,  two  hundred  the  second,  and  more  later  if 
he  likes  the  life."  He  threw  off  tlie  figures  non 
chalantly,  as  though  a  hundred  a  month  were  not  a 
princely  salary  in  Northfield.  "If  he  doesn't,  he*!! 
be  none  the  worse  for  the  experience.  Nothing  like 
contact  with  the  world  for  brightening  a  young 
man." 

"But  the  climate?"  the  widow  quivered.  "I'm 
told—" 

"Nonsense,  madam."  Mr.  Osgood  waved  au 
thoritative  fingers.  "Meagher,  our  late  manager, 
just  returned,  is  the  picture  of  health,  and  actually 
recommends  the  climate  for  consumptives." 

"Still — he  would  be  so  far  away.     I  could  never — " 

Enough  of  the  conversation  had  floated  out  to 
the  hall,  where  David  was  doffing  his  coat,  to  in 
form  him  of  the  issue  which  jibed  so  well  with  his 
present  inclination,  and,  entering,  he  interrupted 
her  protestations. 

"I'll  take  it.     When  shall  I  go?" 

Neither  had  heard  him  enter,  and  the  widow  uttered 
a  little  cry  of  surprise.  Mr.  Osgood,  however,  was 
equal  to  the  situation.  He  shrugged.  "I  don't 
wish  to  hurry  you,  but — the  plantation  is  without  a 
manager." 

"Then  I'll  start  to-morrow.  It's  no  use,  mother" 
(he  anticipated  objections),  "I'm  thoroughly  sick 
of  this  life.  Yes,  you  trained  me  for  something  else 
— that's  the  trouble ;  trained  me  as  a  French  gardener 

10 


HOW    THE    WIND    WAS    TEMPERED 

trains  a  peach-tree,  leading  its  branches  over  a  trellis 
till  he  has  made  a  creeper  out  of  a  tree  that  nature 
intended  to  swing  free  in  the  winds.  I'm  tired  of 
it.  I  must — will  go  out  and  rub  shoulders  with  the 
world." 

"But,"  she  complained,  "who  will  keep  you  out  of 
draughts?  And  there  will  be  no  one  to  air  your 
sheets  and  warm  your  bed  at  night?" 

But  skipping  her  further  protestations,  along  with 
Mr.  Osgood's  assurances  that  draughts  were  a  bless 
ing  in  the  tropics,  where  beds  needed  hot-water  bottles 
less  than  ice,  the  story  jumps  to  the  morning  that  a 
Ward  liner  brought  Mr.  David,  with  contained  cargo 
of  New  England  prejudices,  orthodoxies,  and  beliefs, 
into  Vera  Cruz. 


II 

THE    YAQUIS 

FROM  the  beach  north  of  the  town  the  break 
water  of  Vera  Cruz  throws  a  stone  arm  around 
and  along  encircling  coral  reefs,  swells  midway  of 
its  length  into  a  huge  biceps  the  island  and  fort  of 
San  Juan  de  Ulua,  then  runs  on  to  meet  the  second 
stone  limb  that  comes  sweeping  out  from  the  south. 
Builded  of  twenty-ton  blocks  and  broad  on  its  crest 
as  the  camino  real  (the  royal  highway),  it  fends  the 
gulf  swells  and  bridles  the  tides  that  sneak  in  to  tug 
at  the  ships  whose  silver  bells  pace  off  the  hot,  damp 
hours. 

Coming  in  as  David  did,  the  eye  draws  first  to  the 
fort,  whose  beetling  emplacements  mock  the  peace 
of  smiling  blue  waters,  nodding  palms.  Next  he 
found  himself  looking  down  from  the  Ward  liner's 
high  deck  upon  the  swarthy  crews  of  diminutive 
Mexican  gun -boats;  nor  did  he  fail  to  note  that  the 
gold  in  the  officers'  uniforms  seemed  to  increase  in 
ratio  with  the  smallness  of  their  craft.  At  first  a 
veil  of  masts  had  hidden  the  water-front,  but  pres 
ently  the  mesh  widened,  and  he  saw,  between  red- 

12 


THE    YAQUIS 

and-black  bulk  of  many  steamers,  the  town,  a  blaze 
of  color,  sitting  in  jungle  country  at  the  lip  of  the 
sea  like  a  wonderfully  blazoned  cup  in  a  wide  green 
saucer.  Save  where  some  oaken  grill  -  weathered 
portal  supplied  an  ashen  note,  its  adobe  buildings 
burned  in  smouldering  rose,  saffrons,  purples,  gold 
(the  latter  predominating),  glowing  in  the  sunblaze 
the  whirling  dust,  the  skins  of  men,  women,  venders 
of  sweetmeats,  porters,  and  cargadores,  who  came 
running  along  the  quay  as  the  steamer  drew  into  her 
berth. 

Vera  Cruz,  city  of  the  true  cross,  anciently  haunted 
of  Morgan,  Kidd,  and  other  famous  freebooters! 
Magic  name!  it  calls  up  galleons  and  plate-ships 
loaded  with  bars  and  ingots,  jewels  and  rich  vest 
ments,  sack  and  siege,  buccaneer  revels  in  a  pesti 
lential  climate  that  spared  not  saint  nor  sinner,  but 
snatched  them  alike  from  their  prayers  and  their 
cups.  What  youth  could  fail  to  kindle  at  such  fires  ? 
Surely  not  David,  who  was  once  caught  in  church 
with  the  leaves  of  a  buccaneer  romance  neatly  fitted 
into  his  Bible.  As  he  looked  down  on  the  rabble, 
a  sea  of  chocolate  flecked  with  a  foam  of  glistening 
eyeballs,  memories  came  crowding.  The  rotten  wharf 
and  furry  railroad  tracks  spoke  to  him  of  the  cli 
mate,  suggesting  that  Yellow  Jack  might  be  lurking 
at  the  corner  of  any  one  of  the  flaming  streets,  or 
had  taken  sanctuary  and  was  peering  from  behind 
the  green  bells  of  the  cathedral's  yellow  towers. 
The  cargadores,  who  were  quarrelling  for  possession 


THE    PLANTER 

of  his  baggage,  were  lineally  descended  from  the 
Aztecs,  who  first  fought  Cortes,  then  dragged  his  boats 
and  armament  over  those  distant  blue  mountains  to 
lay  siege  to  Monte  zuma. 

Under  convoy  of  the  two  who  survived  the  quarrel, 
he  presently  made  his  way  through  the  rainbow 
streets  to  the  station  of  a  jerk-water  railroad  which 
advertised  that  its  trains  ran  through  "the  heart  of 
the  tropics,"  a  statement  which  he  presently  found 
needed  qualification  in  that,  a  railroad  in  summer,  it 
was  navigable  by  steamers  for  half  its  length  during 
the  rainy  season  —  if  the  conductor  were  to  be  be 
lieved. 

It  was  after  the  train  had  bumped  by  a  couple  of 
stations  that  the  functionary,  a  rubicund  blond  with 
a  good-natured  face,  shed  this  piece  of  information. 
"Fact,"  he  said,  as  he  settled  down  for  a  talk!  "Last 
rains  we  didn't  run  a  train  for  three  months,  an' 
Pollard,  of  Plantacion  Sol  Suchia,  poled  a  five -ton 
dugout  eighteen  miles  up  the  right  of  way  from  Viga 
to  La  Soledad.  Some  of  them  tin  railroaders  up  in 
the  City  of  Mexico  call  us  the  'canal,'  an'  ask  why 
we  don't  feed  our  mules  more  hay  to  stop  'em  from 
bolting  the  towpath?  An'  while  I'm  not  denying 
that  we  hit  the  ditch  too  often,  we're  surely  on  the 
mend.  On'y  jumped  four  times  coming  up.  What's 
more,  we've  got  a  future.  Just  t'other  day  Uncle 
Porfirio — Diaz,  you  know — grabbed  about  two -thirds 
of  our  stock,  an*  as  he's  clean  cracked  on  beating  out 
the  Panama  Canal  with  his  cross-country  lines,  it 

14 


THE    YAQUIS 

means  that  we'll  be  running  Pullmans,  tide-water  to 
tide-water,  inside  a  year.  So  let  'em  laugh.  After 
we've  ballasted  up  an'  shaken  out  a  few  kinks,  we'll 
make  their  pot-iron  roads  look  like  scrap  in  a  nigger's 
backyard." 

Whatever  magnificence  the  future  might  have  in 
store,  half  a  coach  yet  sufficed  for  the  road's  first- 
class  travel,  and  this,  in  comfort,  cleanliness,  and 
appointments,  was  a  grade  or  two  behind  an  Amer 
ican  emigrant  car.  The  cane  seats  were  dark  and 
shiny,  suggesting  many  perspirings;  iron  spittoons 
stood  in  every  section,  and  a  heavy  odor  of  stale 
tobacco  testified  to  their  constant  use.  The  passen 
gers  were  few — a  scattering  of  Spanish  business  men ; 
some  half-dozen  rancheros  (farmers) ;  a  fat  Mexican 
woman  with  a  daughter  whose  delicately  pretty 
profile  instantly  caught  David's  eye.  The  rancheros, 
with  their  tight,  bell-bottomed  trousers,  bolero  jack 
ets,  peaked  sombreros,  interested  him,  though  not 
nearly  so  much  as  the  rurale  who  stood  on  the  plat 
form  without.  Gray  felt  sombrero,  gray  jacket,  gray 
trousers,  all  striped  or  laced  with  silver,  his  brown 
belt  and  bandoleer  afforded  the  one  touch  of  color 
in  his  costume.  A  rifle  swung  by  the  latter  diagonal 
ly  across  his  back;  a  sabre  and  a  revolver,  full  two 
feet  long,  hung  from  his  belt.  His  face,  in  its  stern 
immobility,  reminded  David  of  a  picture  he  had  once 
seen  of  a  bronzed  Roman  guard. 

"The  rurale?"  The  conductor  answered  his  ques 
tion.  "One  is  detailed  on  every  train  to  put  the  fear 


THE    PLANTER 

of  God — that's  Diaz  again — into  the  third-class  peon's 
hearts,  an'  they  do  it,  too,  you  bet.  You  have  heard 
how  the  rurale  corps  was  formed  ?  Well,  he  issued  a 
free  pardon  to  all  bandits  who  surrendered  by  a  cer 
tain  date,  made  officers  of  the  chiefs,  an'  sent  them 
out  with  their  men  to  exterminate  all  that  were 
left  in  the  mountains.  They  did  it,  too.  Beyond 
Ameca,  t'other  side  of  Guadalajara,  you  can  see  a 
hundred  an'  eleven  graves,  side  by  side,  the  toll  of 
one  village.  Innocent  or  guilty,  they  shot  every 
man  they  met  on  a  mountain  trail,  an'  when  they 
finished  you  couldn't  scare  up  a  bandit  in  the  whole 
of  Mexico — except  in  the  rurales.  That  fellow's  un 
doubtedly  cut  throats  in  his  time,  an'  now  keeps  the 
peace  on  this  train." 

The  train  stopped  just  then  at  a  station — more  ac 
curately,  a  jacale,  big  hut,  half  store,  half  groggery, 
that  stood  in  a  green  clearing  dotted  with  tall  feather 
palms.  From  its  apex  the  roof  of  palm-leaves  ran 
down  and  out  over  sidings  of  split  poles  to  wide 
eaves,  beneath  which  two  peons  were  hulling  rice 
with  a  churn  arrangement,  rude  and  primitive  as 
those  with  which  the  captive  Israelites  winnowed 
out  the  scant  Egyptian  ration.  At  one  end  a  burly 
Mexican  was  serving  tequila,  the  fiery  spirit  of  the 
country,  to  some  rancher  os,  whose  tethered  ponies 
each  carried  a  sheathed  machete  at  the  saddle-bow. 
At  the  other,  his  wife,  equally  brown  and  stout,  was 
measuring  gaudy  cloth  for  two  Indian  women  whose 
broad  bosoms  and  limbs  of  bronze  were  revealed  rather 

16 


THE    YAQUIS 

than  hidden  by  sleeveless  chemisettes  and  scant 
skirts  of  cotton.  Their  dark,  wild  faces  fitted  their 
primitive  husbandry,  and  while  David  looked  on, 
full  of  interest,  there  occurred  that  which  bore  in 
upon  him  the  knowledge  that  he  had  passed  the 
outer  pale  of  civilization  into  a  country  where  a  man 
must  take  care  of  himself. 

It  happened  too  swiftly  for  him  to  grasp  any  de 
tails.  He  was  aware  of  an  angry  shouting,  saw  the 
knot  of  rancheros  open,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of 
faces,  one  scowling  blackly,  the  other  writhing  with 
passion.  Then  came  a  flash  of  a  knife.  A  woman 
shrieked  as  she  threw  herself  upon  a  fallen  man — 
and  the  train  rolled  on,  carrying  with  it  a  youth  who, 
beneath  a  thrill  of  horror,  was  conscious  of  a  strange 
stir  of  feeling,  throb  of  primitive  impulse. 

"Yes,  he  killed  him,"  the  conductor  said,  returning. 
"But  that  don't  count  down  here  like  it  does  up  in 
the  States.  I  could  tell  you  stories — but  't 'ain't 
worth  while;  you'll  soon  see  for  yourself.  Look  at 
the  old  lady  over  there.  Now,  you'd  hardly  call  her 
savage-looking  ?" 

David  shook  his  head.  But  for  its  masculine 
strength,  the  woman's  broad  brown  face  might  have 
served  as  the  type  of  tropical  motherhood. 

"Well,  after  discounting  the  lies  they  tell  about  her, 
she  can  still  show  more  nicks  to  her  gun  than  a  bad 
man  in  a  Western  story.  She's  the  Sefiora  Morales, 
widow  of  a  labor  contratisto,  an'  has  run  the  busi 
ness  since  his  death  six  years  ago.  She  delivers  her 

17 


THE    PLANTER 

enganchadores  (contract  laborers) — that  is,  thieves, 
jail-birds,  the  offal  of  Mexican  cities — three  an'  four 
days'  journey  from  the  railroad  to  outlying  planta 
tions,  an'  does  it  all  on  her  lonely.  Any  one  of  the 
thousands  she's  handled  would  cut  her  throat  for  a 
nickel,  yet  she's  still  delivering  them  like  sheep  to 
the  shambles.  The  girl?  Her  daughter  by  a  first 
husband,  who  was  a  colonel  in  the  army.  Pretty  ? 
Wait  till  you  see  her  eyes.  An'  she's  nice  as  they 
make  'em.  Just  look  at  the  way  she  carries  her 
head.  Blood,  sirree,  for  the  colonel  was  tall  timber 
— as  she  might  be  if  she  threw  over  her  mother. 
You  see,  his  folks  never  liked  the  marriage,  and  have 
tried  again  and  again  to  get  her  away,  but  she  just 
won't  do  it.  No,  she  don't  know  a  thing  about  the 
business.  Came  along,  I  guess,  for  a  bit  of  a  trip. 
But  here  comes  the  old  girl — going  back  to  her  men 
in  the  third,  I  guess.  Take  a  good  look  at  her  as 
she  goes  by." 

This  was  the  easier  for,  pausing  opposite,  she 
thrust  out  a  pudgy  hand.  "Ola!  Senor  el  conduc- 
teur,  Gringo!  Como  le  va?"  (How  goes  it?)  While 
rippling  off  a  few  sentences,  she  held  David  in  the 
tail  of  her  eye,  then  roikd  on  laughing — or,  rather, 
her  bulk  flowed  along  the  aisle  like  a  flood  of  jelly. 

"Wanted  to  know  which  of  my  wives  was  respon 
sible  for  you,"  the  conductor  interpreted,  grinning. 
"The  old  girl  loves  a  joke,  an'  ain't  too  particular 
about  its  color,  if  you  don't  crack  it  before  the  girl. 
With  her  she  lives  right  up  to  the  colonel.  By-the- 

18 


THE    YAQUIS 

way,  she  told  me  that  this  bunch  ain't  no  common 
or  garden  enganchars,  but  Yaqui  Injuns  that  have 
been  sold  by  the  government  to  the  plantations. 
I'm  going  back  now,  so  come  along  if  you'd  like  to 
see  them."  Leading  back  through  the  train,  he 
ran  on:  "The  rurales  uster  shoot  'em  in  bunches — 
men,  women,  an'  children — fast  as  they  rounded  'em 
up;  but  that  was  sheer  waste,  with  the  planters  aching 
to  take  'em  at  eighty  dollars  a  head,  an'  you  can 
trust  your  uncle  Porfirio  to  see  a  dollar  without  a 
microscope.  Yes,  they're  sold  for  life — though  you 
might  call  it  two  years,  for  what  of  calenturas,  ma 
larias,  insects,  an'  sixteen-hour  days'  labor  under  a 
boiling  sun,  it's  a  poor  planter  that  can't  make  a 
good  Injun  in  less.  Many  of  'em  die  the  first  year." 
Opening  the  third-class  door,  he  commented:  "How's 
that  for  a  jam?"  - 

Besides  the  guard  of  armed  cabos  (overseers)  at 
either  end,  fully  two  hundred  Yaquis  were  packed 
like  cattle  in  a  car  that  was  narrower  and  lacked  a 
third  of  the  length  of  those  in  use  on  American  lines. 
Five,  sometimes  six,  Indians,  mostly  women  with 
bundles,  crowded  the  wooden  sections.  A  full  hun 
dred  stood  in  the  aisle,  sweltering  in  the  heat  and  the 
fetor  of  their  own  perspirings — would  so  stand  through 
out  the  day,  with  no  other  test  than  that  afforded  by 
changing  the  weight  from  one  to  the  other  foot. 
Born  of  the  mountains,  free  as  the  clouds  that  flit 
over  the  Sierra  Madres,  last  of  a  race  that  defied 
Toltec  and  Aztec,  that  set  limits  for  Spanish  terri- 

19 


THE    PLANTER 

torial  lust  and  greed  of  Gringo  miners,  who  had 
themselves  fought  the  whole  Mexican  army  for  a 
generation,  they  lived  up  to  their  tradition,  enduring 
the  heat,  crowding,  tedium,  with  the  same  patient 
bravery  they  had  accorded  wounds  and  bruises.  Nor 
could  the  livery  of  slavery  detract  from  their  stolid 
dignity;  for  all  had  been  fitted  with  peon  dress- 
straw  sombreros,  guaraches  (leather  sandals),  cotton 
trousers  girt  up  with  a  colored  sash,  shirts  of  the 
same  material,  that  drew  tightly  across  broad  backs, 
deep  torsos,  and  bulging  breasts. 

''What  splendid  fellows!" 

The  conductor  indorsed  David's  opinion.  "  Prime 
lot.  Look  at  that  chap — six  feet  in  his  sandals,  an' 
carries  his  two  hundred  pounds  like  a  light-weight. 
A  chief,  I'll  bet.  The  planter  that  gets  him  has  his 
hands  full,  all  right."  With  a  shade  of  feeling,  he 
went  on:  "Poor  devils,  none  of  'em  will  look  like  that 
a  month  from  now.  All  but  fifty  are  sold  to  the 
tobacco  an'  sugar  hacendados  of  the  Valle  Nacional, 
Spaniards,  as  cruel  a  lot  as  the  devil  ever  spewed 
from  the  pit.  Indeed,  the  Valle's  known  as  '  The 
Hell  of  the  Enganchador,'  an'  no  peon  will  contract 
to  go  there — if  he  knows  it.  La  senora  could  tell  you 
both  how  he  gets  there  an'  whether  or  not  the  Valle's 
rightly  named.  She's  told  me  tales  that  made  my 
hair  stand  up,  an'  it  don't  naturally  train  that  way." 

"But  have  they  no  recourse?"  David  asked,  as 
they  made  their  way  back  to  their  own  car.  "  Is 
there  no  law  to  which  they  can  appeal?" 

20 


THE    YAQUIS 

The  other  grinned.  "Law?  There's  mighty  little, 
an'  that's  too  much,  for  it's  uncertain  as  lightning, 
an'  you  can  only  guess  it  won't  hit  a  thousand  miles 
from  the  longest  pocket.  If  you  get  to  feeling  a  f 
hankering  for  law  while  you're  down  here,  son,  just 
fly  back  North  an'  let  a  nice  American  lawyer  go 
through  your  pockets.  He  won't  charge  you  extra 
for  insults.  T'other  batch?"  he  said,  answering  an 
other  question.  "Goes  to  a  rubber  plantation  on 
the  Amarilla." 

Now,  as  Mr.  Osgood's  pamphlet  had  been  prepared 
entirely  for  investors,  David's  single  clear  idea  of 
Verda  was  that  it  lay  on  the  Rio  Amarilla.  "The 
Amarilla?"  he  repeated,  flushing.  "That's  where 
I'm  going.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  they  em 
ploy  slave  labor  on  American  plantations?" 

It  was  the  conductor's  turn  to  stare.  "They  work 
enganchars,  mostly,  though  you'd  hardly  tell  the 
difference.  But  say,  young  fellow,  you  surely  haven't 
been  investing  in  rubber?  Why?  Because  there 
ain't  any — -not  an  ounce  —  in  the  Mexican  tropics. 
There's  experiments,  yes,  though  none  of  'em  are 
what  you  could  call  a  howling  success.  All  along 
the  Tehuantepec  Nacional  scores  of  the  plantations 
are  going  back  to  jungle.  Why?  Overcapitaliza 
tion,  extravagant  or  fraudulent  management,  but 
mainly  because  rubber  -  planting,  like  any  kind  of 
farming,  is  individual  business  an'  don't  lend  itself 
to  company  management.  Mind,  I  don't  say  there's 
nothing  in  rubber.  Any  man  who  buys  up  one  of 

21 


THE    PLANTER 

them  bankrupt  plantations  an'  farms  it  himself 
ought  to  come  out  on  velvet — if  he  has  capital  to  run 
him  along  for  six  or  seven  years.  But  I  don't  sec 
any  of  the  managers,  that  ought  to  know,  investing 
their  savings  in  rubber.  Steer  clear  of  'em — if  it 
ain't  too  late.  You're  going  to  manage  Verda? 
Oh,  that's  different.  It's  a  new  company,  an'  you 
orter  be  able  to  put  a  nice  little  roll  in  dry -salt 
before  the  stockholders  quit  on  the  instalments. 
You're  new,  so  take  my  tip  an'  don't  get  too  far  be 
hind  your  opportunities,  for  this  climate  ain't  so 
damn  nice  that  any  of  us  are  staying  down  for  our 
healths." 

This  piece  of  worldly  advice  was  delivered  on  the 
last  platform,  but  before  David  could  find  expression 
for  his  dismay  his  companion  stopped,  pointing 
through  the  glass  door.  "  Now,,  don't  that  beat 
hell!  There's  Mexican  manners  for  you!" 

In  their  absence  one  of  the  business  men  had  re 
versed  a  seat  of  the  section  in  front  of  the  girl,  and 
now  sat  ogling  her.  A  gross  man,  stubby,  his  small 
pig  eyes  and  brown  chops  were  equally  implicated  in 
a  grin  so  fulsome  that  David  tingled  to  remodel  it. 

"The  brute!"  he  exclaimed.  "Ought  to  have  his 
head  punched." 

"An'  I'd  do  it  myself — if  she  was  American,"  the 
conductor  agreed.  "But  she's  Mex,  an'  'tain't  worth 
the  risk  of  a  knife  in  the  ribs.  Anyway,  the  old 
lady  '11  be  along  in  a  minute  to  settle  his  hash.  Here, 
where  are  you  going?" 

22 


THE   YAQUIS 

But  David  was  already  half-way  down  the  aisle. 

He  hardly  knew  what  he  intended;  was  conscious 
only  of  the  girl's  red  distress,  of  her  glance  which  had 
touched  himself.  Dropping  into  the  seat  beside  her, 
he  crossed  his  arms  on  the  back  of  the  seat  and 
leaned  forward,  aggressive  chin  thrust  out,  returning 
stare  for  stare  at  a  range  of  a  yard. 

"Phew!"  the  conductor  whistled.  "An'  me  put 
ting  him  down  as  a  parson!  By  golly!  Mexico's 
quitting  already!" 

A  snicker  passing  around  the  car  told  that  the 
passengers  had  noted  the  incident,  and  as,  red  and 
flustered,  the  man  returned  his  seat  to  its  original 
position,  the  rancheros  burst  out  laughing.  His  de 
feat  accomplished,  David  also  rose,  but  before  he 
could  retire  the  girl  jumped  up,  hand  out-stretched, 
speaking  rapidly  in  liquid  Spanish.  The  conductor 
had  praised  her  eyes.  Now,  while  her  soft  palm 
rested  in  his,  David  saw  himself  twinkling  in  deeps 
of  translucent  brown,  wide  and  tenderly  soft.  Con 
scious  of  a  curious  stirring  beneath  his  ribs,  he  could 
only  stand  before  her,  red  and  confused,  until  the 
conductor  came  to  the  rescue. 

"She's  asking  your  name." 

Repeated  with  her  musical  accent,  his  homely 
cognomen  took  an  unsuspected  grace,  and  while  he 
was  in  full  enjoyment  thereof  the  door  banged  and 
the  senora  flowed  up  the  aisle,  a  brown  and  threaten 
ing  flood.  Eyes  one  black  glare  under  heavy  lower 
ing  brows,  she  bore  down  on  David  evidently  sus- 

23 


THE    PLANTER 

pecting  an  invasion  of  the  faithless  Gringo ;  but  being 
informed  by  her  daughter  of  his  part  in  the  affair, 
she  whisked  round  on  the  starer,  burst  out  in  trop 
ical  stormings,  under  which  the  girl's  pleadings  ran 
like  the  patter  of  summer  rain.  The  things  she  told 
him!  David's  blushes  were  saved  through  his  lack 
of  Spanish.  Her  threats!  She  would  pistol  him 
with  her  own  hand!  Call  her  cabos  to  throw  him 
headlong  from  the  train!  But  being  dissuaded  from 
this  last  and  mildest  intention  by  the  rurale — whose 
single  word  sent  the  cowering  starer  to  herd  with 
second-class  peons — she  simmered  down,  the  sun  of 
her  broad  smile  broke  through  her  frowns,  while  she 
returned  stately  thanks  to  David.  Also  she  bloomed 
with  tropic  flowers  of  hospitality.  He  must  come 
over  for  a  cup  of  chocolate!  And  while  preparing 
the  beverage  over  a  tiny  alcohol  stove,  she  conversed 
affably  and  with  a  patrician  ease  that  would  have 
done  honor  to  the  colonel,  inquiring  solicitously  both 
of  his  antecedents  and  present  purpose  in  the  tierra 
caliente. 

As  the  conversation  flowed  through  the  mouth  of 
the  conductor,  it  took  quite  a  serial  flavor  through 
his  absences  at  stations,  but  the  interruptions  brought 
compensations  in  that  they  permitted  private  study 
of  the  girl.  Seen  vis-h-vis,  her  face  proved  every 
whit  as  delicate  as  in  profile.  A  perfect  oval  in  a 
frame  of  brown  hair  shot  with  a  tangle  of  sunshine, 
its  rich  creams  emphasized  the  scarlet  of  her  mouth 
and  added  depth  to  eyes  that  were  deep  enough  in 

24 


THE    YAQUIS 

their  own  right.  It  was  one  of  those  faces  in  which 
intangible  mysteries  dwell,  tantalizing  by  suggesting 
unexplorable  deeps  of  feeling  beneath.  Toned  as 
yet  by  youthful  ingenuity,  it  were  easy  to  imagine 
its  charm  as  developing  into  one  of  those  remarkable 
fascinations  which  have,  on  occasion,  set  the  world 
by  the  ears.  For  one,  David  already  felt  its  force, 
and  as  the  strange  sights  of  the  tierra  caliente  passed 
unseen  in  slow  procession  under  the  car  windows,  he 
came  more  and  more  under  its  spell. 

Naturally  this  expression  centred  upon  her  eyes, 
and  if  he  did  not  solve  its  puzzle  it  was  not  for  lack 
of  opportunity,  for  her  glances  freely  met  his,  both 
during  the  lapses  and  while  the  senora  was  talking. 
A  boyish  frankness,  however,  robbed  them  of  all 
taint  of  immodesty;  nor  were  they  more  frequent 
than  was  to  be  expected,  seeing  that  the  fates  had 
brought  under  their  sparkling  range  a  new  type  of 
the  genus  homo,  one  whose  respectful  timidity,  after 
such  gallant  conduct,  made  his  subjugation  particu 
larly  enticing, 

On  his  part,  David  displayed  far  more  interest  in 
the  frequency  and  quality  of  said  glances  than  was 
becoming  to  a  disappointed  suitor.  If  he  thought  of 
Kate  Somers  that  livelong  day,  it  was  only  to  wonder 
what  she  would  think  could  she  see  him  now.  For 
which  piece  of  boyish  conceit  he  was  presently  punished. 

Nemesis  took  fat  form  in  the  senora.  Gracious 
at  all  times,  she  passed,  under  the  stimulation  of  the 
chocolate,  from  pleasant  intimacy  to  motherly  ban- 
3  25 


THE    PLANTER 


ter,  and  prepared  David's  undoing  by  asking  the 
number  of  senoritas  who  must  be  lamenting  the 
absence  of  such  a  fine  young  man.  There  was,  of 
course,  one  in  particular?  She  would  undoubtedly  be 
prettier  than  Consuela  here,  and  possess  a  finer  nose  ? 

Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Kate  Somers'  features, 
while  pretty,  would  have  appeared  coarsely  moulded 
in  contrast  with  this  girl's,  and  being  suddenly  struck 
with  the  fact  David  returned  a  vigorous  denial  to 
the  latter  half  of  the  question. 

So  there  was  a  fiance'e?  The  young  lady  herself 
now  took  it  up,  nor  could  David's  vehement  denials, 
per  conductor,  dissipate  a  slight  hostility  that  crept 
into  her  manner  —  the  touch  of  disdain  with  which 
most  girls  regard  a  man  who  yields  to  the  attractions 
of  others  than  themselves.  She  developed,  too,  a 
penchant  for  teasing  that  kept  him  on  nettles  up  to 
the  moment  when,  after  farewells  that  made  him 
master  of  the  senora's  house  in  Ciudad  Mexico,  she 
left  the  car  that  evening. 

While  the  Yaquis  were  being  marshalled  upon  the 
platform  she  stood  under  David's  window,  and,  had 
they  known  it,  the  same  thought  was  in  the  minds 
of  both.  Her  "Que  importa?  Si  se  ha  ido,"  ex 
actly  complementing  his  "What  does  it  matter?  I 
shall  never  see  her  again." 

As  the  train  rolled  on,  however,  she  glanced  up, 
softly  smiling,  and  he  took  unnecessary  comfort  out 
of  her  parting  salutation:  "Hasta  la  vista,  senor!*' 
(Till  I  see  you  again!). 

26 


Ill 

LOS    ENGANCHADORES 

TTITHERTO  patches  of  tropical  forest  had  alter- 
11  nated  with  open  grazing  country,  the  paradise  of 
the  rancheros,  but  within  the  hour  the  train  plunged 
into  the  jungle  proper.  A  ferment  of  life,  it  boiled 
and  seethed  on  every  hand,  bubbling  up  from  the 
fat,  dank  mould  in  endless  variety  of  beautiful  or 
fantastic  forms.  Creepers,  climbers,  parasites  of  a 
hundred  orders  twined,  a  mad  arabesque,  among  the 
trees,  which  in  turn  shouldered  one  another  away 
from  light  and  air.  A  plague  of  orchids,  like  some 
beautiful  leprosy,  infested  the  latter  in  trunk  and 
limb,  burning  unnaturally  in  mossy  shadows,  weight 
ing  the  sickly  air  with  cloying  scents.  The  bejuca, 
strangler  of  the  wilderness,  ran  everywhere,  con 
stricted  its  tough  cables  deep  into  the  bark  of  wood 
of  even  the  giant  saber,  from  whose  wide  umbrella 
top  it  leaped  hundreds  of  feet  to  the  ground  to  writhe 
off  and  away  after  other  victims.  It  was  riot,  veg 
etable  war,  plant  against  plant,  tree  against  tree, 
and  all  against  the  railroad.  Reaching  out,  monster 
briars  clawed  the  car  windows  with  curving  thorns. 

27 


THE    PLANTER 

Like  some  ocean  comber,  the  jungle  curved  over  the 
right  of  way,  roofing  it  with  giant  palms;  hung,  a 
perpetual  threat,  that  might  break  at  any  moment 
and  flood  the  tracks  with  greenery. 

In  open  country  the  train  had  made  fair  time,  ap 
proximating,  perhaps,  that  of  a  third-class  freight 
on  an  American  mountain  road.  But  here  the  trials 
and  tribulations  which  had  made  the  road's  fame 
lay  in  wait.  Twice  did  the  train  break  in  two,  to 
be  mended  with  ropes.  Thrice  the  engine  bolted  the 
track,  and  was  only  persuaded  back  by  the  united 
prayers  and  work  of  passengers  and  crew.  While 
graduating  in  train  -  wrecking,  David  learned,  inci 
dentally,  how  forcible  one  may  be,  on  occasion,  in 
such  a  liquid  tongue  as  Spanish;  also  he  scraped  ac 
quaintance  with  various  insect  pests.  Through  the 
muggy  tropical  night,  lit  only  by  the  amethyst  in 
candescence  of  myriad  lantern-flies,  the  cars  racked 
along,  their  wheels  groaning  curses  at  the  execrable 
road-bed.  Sleep  was  out  of  the  question,  save  when 
the  engine  went  into  the  ditch,  and  then  he  had  to 
turn  out  and  work.  Daylight  found  train  as  tired 
as  people.  Withal,  it  clanked,  rattled,  or  jerked 
through  the  heat  of  a  second  day,  grinding  rails  and 
ties  deep  into  the  oozy  soil,  and  at  sundown  pulled 
into  the  terminal. 

While  the  conductor's  conversation  had  tended  to 
discount  expectation,  David  had  looked,  at  least,  for  a 
pocket  edition  of  Vera  Cruz,  and,  alighting,  he  stared 
dismally  at  the  Chinese  eating-house  and  the  Mexican 

28 


LOS    ENGANCHADORES 

groggery  which  with  a  few  score  jacales  and  dilapi 
dated  wooden  buildings  made  up  the  town. 

A  scant  three  years  old,  the  feverish  isthmus  cli 
mate  had  so  touched  the  place  in  thatch  and  wood 
that  in  its  combination  of  pioneer  rawness  and  prem 
ature  decay  it  resembled  a  degenerate  youth  who 
achieves  the  senility  of  age  before  manhood's  years. 
Its  palm-leaf  roofs  were  sere  and  smoke-blacked; 
weather  blotches  stained  the  unpainted  station. 
The  Indian  women  squatting  in  split-pole  door 
ways,  their  children  golden  blots  in  the  dusk;  the 
peons  drinking  at  the  groggeries;  even  the  pigs  and 
leaden  vultures,  helped  to  produce  a  composite  of 
heated  squalor,  of  brown  life,  teeming  and  prolific 
as  the  environing  jungle.  In  vivid  contrast  he  saw 
Northfield  amid  its  piles  of  scented  lumber,  sweet 
and  cool  as  a  girl  in  a  summer  dress,  and  the  memory 
brought  acute  homesickness. 

''Don't  like  the  looks  of  it,  eh ?"  A  friendly  hand, 
the  conductor's,  dropped  on  his  shoulder.  "Well, 
we  can't  take  you  any  farther.  Verda  ?  Eleven 
hours  from  here — muleback,  you  know.  Too  late 
to  start  to-night.  You  can  get  a  bed  at  the  Chink's, 
horses  from  Don  Manuel  at  the  store  over  there,  an* 
if  you  beat  the  sun  to  it  to-morrow  you  orter  make 
Hertzer's,  on  the  Amarilla,  'fore  night.  Come  along 
to  grub."  And,  grasping  the  lad's  arm  with  a  friend 
ly  grip  that  almost  squeezed  out  the  homesickness, 
the  good-natured  fellow  led  over  to  the  store. 

The  horses  arranged  for,  the  "shakedown"  proved 
29 


THE   PLANTER 

a  catre  (sheet  of  canvas  nailed  to  a  saw-horse  frame 
and  set  up  with  two  sheets,  its  complement  of  bed 
ding,  on  the  mud  floor).  Hard  as  rock  in  comparison 
with  his  mother's  feather-beds,  David  was  so  tired 
that,  though  reinforced  by  the  quarrelsome  gobblings 
of  the  Chinese  waiters  over  a  game  of  fan-tan,  its 
hardness  could  not  keep  him  from  his  sleep.  The 
kindly  conductor  had  bidden  him  good-bye  ere  he 
retired,  and,  as  in  a  dream,  he  heard  the  cars  roll 
away  in  the  dark  of  the  morning.  It  seemed,  indeed, 
that  he  had  barely  closed  his  eyes  before  the  China 
man  called  him  for  breakfast.  He  was  still  eating 
when  the  Mexican  moso  brought  his  horse  to  the 
door,  and  an  hour  thereafter  he  was  deep  in  the 
jungle,  wrapped  by  the  teeming  life  he  had  viewed 
from  the  car. 

Having,  as  the  conductor  said,  "beat  the  sun  to 
it,"  travelling  was,  at  first,  very  pleasant.  Through 
dark  temples  roofed  by  curving  palm  fronds  and 
hung  with  woven  damask  of  creepers,  the  path  now 
wound  along  a  babbling  arroyo,  again  emerged  on 
an  oak-studded  clearing,  to  lose  itself  in  a  marsh. 
Twice  they  forded  rivers — swift,  silent  streams  that 
slid  through  tunnels  of  overhanging  vegetation  with 
out  ripple  of  laughing  waters  to  give  notice  of  their 
presence.  A  lurid  gleam  through  thick  foliage,  a 
splash  as  a  basking  alligator  took  the  water,  and  the 
horses  would  be  in  to  the  shoulder.  Only  the  music 
of  leaping  fish  spaced  the  heated  silence. 

The  jungle,  however,  rang  with  life.  Brilliant 
30 


LOS    ENGANCHADORES 

birds  flew,  screaming,  at  their  approach — noisy  par 
rots  and  macaws;  the  gaucamaya,  one  flash  of  red 
and  gold;  a  king  vulture,  raven  black  save  for  his 
scarlet  crest.  From  the  safe  height  of  a  saber,  mon 
keys  showered  vituperations  upon  them.  Once  an 
iguana,  great  chameleon  lizard,  rose  underfoot  and 
dashed  for  the  nearest  water;  again  a  python  wound 
its  slow  length  across  the  path. 

Vegetation  was  equally  gorgeous,  always  strange. 
He  saw  plants  that  stung  more  bitterly  than  insects, 
insects  barely  distinguishable  from  plants.  Here  a 
tree  bore  flowers  instead  of  leaves ;  there  flowers  grew 
as  large  as  trees.  A  "fly-catcher,"  the  harlot  of  flow 
ers,  drooped  like  a  white  bell  over  the  path  with 
portals,  pure  as  the  snows  of  a  virtuous  woman, 
spread  for  unwary  insects,  and  trumpet  larynx  lead 
ing  down  to  inner  chambers  crimson  as  the  halls  of 
vice.  Birds,  beasts,  flowers  —  all  were  strange,  all 
wonderful;  and  as  David  rode  along  Romance  peeped 
from  the  swaddlings  in  which  his  mother  had  smoth 
ered  her,  and  illumed  all  things  with  her  golden 
smile.  Homesickness,  pessimism,  dropped  away. 
Even  the  heat,  that  fell  like  a  steamy  blanket  around 
him  at  noon,  failed  to  damp  his  mood.  He  was  still 
in  the  full  flush  of  enjoyment  when,  midway  of  the 
afternoon,  a  high  nasal  chant  rose  in  the  jungle  ahead. 

"Los  enganchadores,  seftor."  The  guide  answered 
his  look. 

He  now  knew  that  the  term  stood  for  "contract 
laborer,"  and,  remembering  all  that  the  conductor 


THE   PLANTER 

had  told  him  of  the  system,  he  turned  anxious  eyes 
toward  the  long  file,  weird  procession,  which  just  then 
came  winding  through  the  trees.  Such  men!  Such 
women!  Peons  of  the  upper  Mexican  plateau,  they 
lacked  even  a  suggestion  of  the  physical  develop 
ment  of  the  Yaquis  he  had  seen  on  the  train.  For 
upon  them  the  Isthmus  had  wrought  its  worst,  rot 
ting  them  with  its  calenturas,  thinning  their  blood 
to  a  serum  with  its  steam  heat,  poisoning  them  with 
the  venom  of  its  myriad  insect  plagues.  An  they 
drew  nearer  he  saw  not  one  face  but  that  was  pocked 
or  marred  by  eruptive  disorders,  not  a  body  that  was 
straight  and  sound,  neither  a  man  nor  woman  that 
walked  uprightly.  Yet  thougn  worn,  wan,  weary, 
they  sang  as  they  flitted  along  like  a  trail  of  Dora's 
dim  ghosts,  chanting,  like  the  Israelites  of  old,  their 
deliverance  from  bondage. 

For  so  the  moso's  next  remark  informed  him. 
"They  are  from  the  plantation  of  Senor  Hertzer." 
After  a  question  addressed  to  the  leader,  he  added: 
"Their  term  is  expired,  and  they  return  to  Ciudad 
Mexico,  their  pais." 

Halting  of  its  own  volition,  the  procession  had 
turned  yellow  eyes  on  David  in  a  look  in  which  fear 
was  evenly  compounded  with  the  dumb  pleading  one 
sees  in  the  eyes  of  an  over-driven  ox.  All  were  busily 
searching  through  grimy,  sweaty  rags,  and  presently 
the  leading  tatterdemalion  fished  out  a  paper  which 
the  moso  handed  to  David. 

It  read: 

32 


LOS   ENGANCHADORES 

"SE  DA  SU  LIBERTAD 

"Presecio  Pena. 

"Por  haber  cumplido  su  termino  de  comprise  con  su 
trabajo  personal  en  esta  plantacion  y  para  que  no  sc  la 
impido  su  camino,  se  le  da  este  papel  para  constancia  y  su 
resguardo"  (This  gives  to  Presecio  Pena  his  liberty  for  hav 
ing  accomplished  his  term  of  personal  labor  on  this  planta 
tion,  and  he  is  given  this  paper  in  order  that  he  may  not  be 
stopped  on  the  highroad). 

It  hardly  required  the  moso's  interpretation  to  in 
form  David  that  this  was  a  manumittance  from  la 
bor.  The  word  "libertad"  was  sufficient.  Liberty? 
What  mockery  of  it  was  this  when  he,  David  Mann, 
but  lately  of  Northfield,  Maine,  was  detaining  some 
thirty  human  beings  upon  the  public  highway.  It 
was  monstrous!  Incredible!  Yet  the  anxious  faces 
plainly  told  that  they  felt  their  newly  acquired  free 
dom  to  be  in  jeopardy.  Shocked,  pained,  he  held 
the  paper  out  to  the  moso. 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  this?" 

"It  is  the  custom,  senor."  The  man  smiled,  the 
greasy  smile  of  the  henchman  the  world  over.  "No 
enganchador  may  travel  the  camino  real  without  a 
pass." 

"Well,  let  them  go  on." 

But  the  moso — but  one  remove  from  an  enganchador 
himself,  and  liable  to  have  that  cancelled  by  sale  for 
debt  or  crime — either  misunderstood  or  was  so  in 
ebriated  by  the  unusual  exercise  of  power  that  he  did 
not  hear.  He  was  officiously  pushing  up  and  down 
the  line  when  David  spoke  again. 

33 


THE    PLANTER 

"Let  them  go,  I  say!" 

Still  misunderstanding  the  words,  the  fellow  placed 
his  own  interpretation  upon  the  tone,  and,  leaning 
over,  struck  the  nearest  enganchador  full  in  the  face. 
"Carajo!  will  you  keep  the  senor  waiting!" 

A  light  blow,  scarcely  sufficient  to  stagger  a  healthy 
man,  it  felled  the  miserable  skeleton,  and  his  cry, 
thin  as  that  of  an  infant,  yet  pierced  David  to  the 
heart,  smashed  through  the  ice  with  which  Mrs. 
Mann  had  plated  her  son's  emotions.  Righteous  an 
ger  flooded  away  the  barriers  she  had  built  across  his 
passions.  Uttering  a  full-mouthed  "  Damn!"  he  rode 
at  the  bully  and  struck  him  behind  the  ear. 

The  first  blow  he  had  ever  given  in  anger,  he  gave 
it  with  a  will,  thrilling  to  a  gust  of  passion.  But  as 
he  rose  in  his  stirrups,  swinging  his  fist,  tingling  to 
strike  again,  he  glimpsed  the  moso's  face  beneath 
his  raised  elbow,  and  its  ridiculous  terror  caused  him 
to  burst  out  laughing.  Then  suddenly  realizing  that 
the  enganchador es  were  regarding  his  hilarity  as  an 
other  manifestation  of  his  madness,  and  evidently 
believed  themselves  to  be  next  for  immolation,  he 
quickly  sobered. 

Remembering  the  conductor's  familiar  cry  at  sta 
tions,  he  suddenly  yelled:  "Vaminos!"  Incorrect  in 
tense,  the  command  yet  proved  efficacious.  For,, 
breaking  into  a  shambling  trot,  the  line  vanished  with 
the  echoes. 

But  this  was  not  the  end,  for  the  trail  of  thin 
ghosts  had  still  its  thinner  stragglers.  A  half-mile 

34 


LOS    ENGANCHADORES 

farther  on  David's  horse  shied  at  a  foul  bundle,  which 
proved  to  be  a  woman  flat  on  her  face  in  the  mud  of 
a  marsh.  Her  baby,  a  tiny  brown  attenuation,  sat 
a  few  feet  away,  up  to  its  small  waist  in  mud  and 
water.  Yellow,  fevered  eyes,  gasping  breath,  told 
that  the  mother  was  nearly  spent,  yet  the  sight  of 
David  was  sufficient  to  inspire  her  with  strength  to 
rise  and  stagger  another  mile.  A  second  woman 
fell  as  she  turned  from  their  path,  and  lay  kicking 
like  a  turtle,  held  down  by  the  bundle  across  her 
shoulders.  Her  ludicrous  stragglings  set  the  moso 
laughing — that  is,  he  laughed  till  David  jumped  down 
and  helped  the  miserable  creature  to  rise. 

"La  calentura,  senor,"  he  then  explained  her  gasp- 
ings.  ''Has  it  very  bad." 

She  was  the  last,  nor  was  more  needed  to  dispel 
the  smiles  of  romance,  for  thereafter  the  memory  of 
her  rode  like  dull  care  at  David's  saddle-bow.  With 
the  shadows  of  evening  his  doubts  deepened,  forebod 
ings  grew  darker,  reaching  their  climax  when,  at  sun 
down,  he  rode  out  on  a  sand  playa  and  saw,  darkly 
outlined  against  a  smouldering  sky  across  the  river, 
the  conical  huts  of  La  Luna,  source  of  that  stream  of 
misery. 

He  started  as  a  voice,  deep  in  its  masculinity,  an 
swered  the  nwso's  hail:  "Carmen!  Carmen!  Traiga 
la  canoa!" 


IV 

. 
LA    LUNA 

RISING  a  hundred  feet  sheer  from  the  water,  the 
opposite  bank  loomed  black  against  a  fiery  sky, 
and  the  moso  had  no  more  than  stripped  the  horses 
before  a  cedar  dugout,  manned  by  an  Indian,  shot  out 
of  its  shadow  and  ploughed  a  sable  track  athwart  the 
blood-red  reflections.  Motioning  David  to  sit  with 
the  moso  in  the  bows,  the  Indian  manoeuvred  the 
crank  craft  to  bring  the  horses  ahead  of  his  pole  and 
so  drove  them  into  deep  water. 

Now,  though  good  swimmers,  horses  make  heavy 
weather  of  it,  and  alarmed  by  the  distressful  snorts 
of  his  beast,  David  was  pulling  on  the  hackamore 
when  the  strong  voice  hailed  again. 

"You'll  pull  him  under  the  canoe!  Drop  the  rope! 
He'll  swim  out!" 

"It  is  the  Senor  Hertzer,"  the  moso  whispered, 
and  fear  mingled  so  obviously  with  cringing  respect 
in  his  tone  that  David  looked  up,  startled,  at  the  two 
men  who  were  coming  down  a  steep  path  to  the 
landing. 

It  was  easy  to  pick  Hertzer.     The  big  voice  went 

36 


LA   LUNA 

with  his  swinging  stride,  confident  gait;  was  alto 
gether  foreign  to  his  companion's  precise,  almost 
mincing  step.  Viewed  from  mid-stream,  he  appeared 
short,  but  the  appearance  was  due  to  his  stocky 
build,  for  he  almost  touched  six  feet.  His  face  jibed 
with  his  voice.  His  large,  coarse  mouth  told  of  ap 
petites  keen  and  brutal.  Heavy  brows  overhung 
eyes  vividly  alive,  but  small  and  cold  as  bits  of  gray 
marble.  Sliding  suspiciously  from  under  drooped 
lids,  their  glance  indicated  cruelty,  which  the  strong 
grip  he  bestowed  on  David  showed  to  be  allied  with 
passion.  Summed,  his  face  expressed  his  Austrian- 
Jew  birth  modified  by  American  training,  combining 
Slavonic  heaviness  with  the  thirsty  acquisitiveness 
of  the  Jew,  the  whole  toned  by  a  dash  of  the  reckless 
Yankee.  Turned  in  at  the  collar,  his  white  camisa 
revealed  a  hairy  throat  and  chest;  his  rolled-up 
sleeves  ringed  arms  equally  hairy  and  bulging  with 
muscles.  The  coarse  body  helped  the  coarse  face  in 
creating  an  impression  of  masculinity  so  intense  that 
it  would  have  been  savage  but  for  the  grim  humor 
that  wrinkled  his  mouth.  From  these  puckers  a 
grin  had  spread  out  as  he  noted  David's  honorable 
but  mistaken  efforts  on  behalf  of  his  horse,  and  a 
faint  suggestion  of  it  lingered  to  warm  his  greeting. 
"  Meagher's  successor,  eh  ?  Glad  to  see  you. 
Shake  hands  with  Professor  Phelps,  here,  your  near 
est  neighbor.  He's  a  Johnny  Bull,  but  a  good  fellow, 
or  would  be  if  he  could  get  the  padding  out  of  his 
system  that  he  swallowed  at  Oxford.  I  don't  know 

37 


THE    PLANTER 

what  the  dickens  he's  doing  here  in  the  tropics,  any 
way.  Ought  to  be  nursing  his  professorship  back  in 
old  England." 

"That's  only  Hertzer's  joke,"  Phelps  demurred, 
as  David  addressed  him  by  the  title.  "Over  there 
we  don't  chuck  dignities  around  as  loosely  as  in 
your  country;  a  professor  with  us  is  a  'varsity  don. 
I  did  eat  my  commons  at  the  temple — graduate  in 
law,  you'd  call  it.  But  everything's  done  to  death 
over  there — the  bar,  medicine,  business — and  when 
my  governor  acquired  a  controlling  interest  in  Sol 
Suchia  I  was  jolly  glad  to  get  the  managership." 

His  "governor"!  Parental  influence,  the  force 
which  scatters  British  fledglings  broadcast  from  the 
Circle  to  the  Equator,  to  fall  like  devouring  locusts 
upon  the  world's  high  places.  Everywhere  one  sees 
them,  managing  and  mismanaging — mostly  the  latter 
— so  exactly  alike  in  leather  puttees,  riding-breeches, 
and  exaggerated  importance  as  though  the  product  of 
a  single  father  and  tailor.  Not  that  Phelps  belonged 
to  the  worthless  remittance  type.  His  high,  peaked 
forehead,  sparkling  eyes,  indicated  intellectual  en 
ergies.  But  these  merely  emphasized  his  unfitness 
in  that  environment.  The  Indian  boatman  in  his 
scanty  cottons  could  not  have  appeared  more  for 
eign  in  a  London  drawing-room  than  he  to  the  jungle. 
Of  this,  however,  he  was  sublimely  unconscious,  and 
going  up  the  path  he  exhaled  egotism,  manif easting 
his  belief  in  himself  as  the  centre  of  things  by  his 
domination  of  the  conversation. 

38 


LA   LUNA 

"  You  came  in  by  the  La  Plata  trail  ?"  he  questioned 
David.  "Then  you  must  have  met  Hertzer's  en- 
ganchars.  What  did  you  think  of  them  ?  Looked 
ill?  Well,  I  should  say!  We  picked  twenty  out  of 
the  thirty  to  die  within  a  month;  didn't  we,  Hertzer  ?" 

"And  the  others  will  never  be  worth  a  damn 
again,"  the  Austrian  answered. 

With  that  decrepit  procession  still  winding  wearily 
through  the  chambers  of  his  brain,  David  could  not 
but  wonder  at  the  callousness  implied  by  their  in 
difference;  but  coming  out  on  top  just  then  his  atten 
tion  was  drawn  to  the  buildings — a  dozen  or  so  of 
jacales,  which  formed  a  small  street  at  the  beginning 
of  a  road  that  ran  under  lines  of  shading  rubber  from 
the  river  across  the  plantation. 

The  house — also  a  palm  hut — stood  farther  back 
within  the  loop  of  the  river,  and  so  close  to  the  bank 
that  a  stone  could  be  dropped  from  the  veranda  to 
the  water  below.  Rubber-trees  shaded  -a  path  that 
led  to  the  door  through  a  garden,  in  which  cabbages, 
onions,  homely  vegetables  of  the  cold  North,  grew 
cheek  by  jowl  with  spiky  pineapples,  cocoa,  vanilla, 
and  other  tropical  plants.  Roses,  pinks,  carnations 
shouldered  vivid  tropical  flowers  of  a  dozen  orders 
for  room  about  the  house;  a  heavy  perfume  of  or 
ange  blossoms  stole  across  the  gathering  dusk  from  a 
thrifty  grove. 

"There  isn't  much  left  in  them,  either."  Hertzer 
nodded  toward  a  line  of  enganchadores  in  front  of  the 
nearest  building. 

39 


THE    PLANTER 

Just  in  front  of  the  field,  haggard,  worn,  foul  with 
the  grime  and  sweat  of  the  day's  labor,  they  were, 
indeed,  blood  brothers  to  the  scarecrows  of  the  trail. 
With  a  gesture  of  irritable  disgust,  Hertzer  ran  on: 
"Rotten  cattle!  The  money  isn't  in  them.  By- 
the-way"  (he  swung  round  on  David),  "you  must 
have  seen  my  Yaquis  on  the  train,  for  I  received  a 
telegram  yesterday  from  Tierra  Blanca?  You  did? 
Then  they'll  be  here  in  a  couple  of  days,  and  I'll  fire 
this  bunch  the  minute  they  arrive.  Better  put  your 
traps  in  the  store  for  to-night."  He  suddenly  switch 
ed  subjects  as  the  moso  came  staggering  up  with 
David's  trunk.  "Then  you  fellows  can  either  go 
on  to  the  house  or  wait  till  I  see  the  gangs  into  the 
galera?" 

"We'll  wait."  Phelps  answered  for  both.  "Yes, 
it's  pretty,"  he  replied  to  David's  comment  on  the 
garden  after  Hertzer  left  them.  "Trust  your  Dutch 
man  to  have  his  garden.  While  we  fellows  vegetate 
on  tortillas  and  frijoles,  leavened  by  a  sprinkling  of 
American  canned  goods,  he  wallows  in  fruit  and  vege 
tables — lives  on  the  fat  of  the  land.  Really,  he's  the 
Sybarite  of  this  howling  wilderness.  You  wouldn't 
think  it,  to  look  at  him,"  he  added,  "but  he's  posi 
tively  luny  on  flowers.  Scours  the  jungle  for  rare 
orchids,  and  will  pay  any  old  price  for  a  fancy  rose." 

In  view  of  what  he  had  already  seen  the  trait  did 
seem  remarkable  to  David,  and  the  more  he  came 
to  know  the  man,  later,  the  more  wonder  it  caused 
him.  The  aesthetic  seemed  so  foreign  to  that  harsh 

40 


LA    LUNA 

face;  was  as  grimly  out  of  place  as  a  flower  which, 
months  afterward,  he  found  growing  out  of  the  eye- 
socket  of  a  human  skull.  He  had  turned,  curiously, 
to  glance  after  Hertzer,  when  his  great  voice  boomed 
out. 

"Look  at  this  fellow!  Must  have  hid  that  sore 
for  a  week!  .  .  .  Maggoty,  by  God!"  followed  a  salvo 
of  Spanish  oaths.  And  David  was  just  in  time  to  see 
the  offender,  a  wretched  remnant  of  humanity,  rolled 
over  by  a  vigorous  cuff. 

"He's  curing  the  sick,"  Phelps  said.  "Come  along, 
if  you'd  like  to  see." 

The  tropics  have  no  twilight,  and  that  haggard  line 
showed  as  a  dirty  smudge  in  the  dusk;  but,  drawing 
nearer,  David  saw  that  all  had  rolled  up  pants  to 
the  knee  displaying  sores  and  swellings  which  Hertzer 
was  treating  with  boracic  powder,  plastering  it  over 
sweat  and  dirt. 

"Granos,"  Phelps  explained.  "They're  climatic. 
We  should  have  them  just  as  badly  if  we  didn't  keep 
clean." 

"And  that's  what  you  call  'curing*  them?" 

Phelps  replied  by  a  shrug.  "Primitive,  I'll  admit, 
but  you  should  have  seen  Meagher's  practice.  I  saw 
him  one  night  treat  calentura,  a  fistula,  dysentery, 
and  rheumatism  with  the  same  dose  of  starch — or 
dinary  cold  starch.  '  Ye'd  be  the  better  av  a  lick  av 
Christian  Science  ye'self,  Phelps,'  he  answered  my 
chaff.  '  'Tis  said  that  faith  will  move  mountains, 
an'  health  depends  on  mental  attichudes,  an'  if  an 


THE    PLANTER 

enganchar  don't  know  the  difference,  starch  is  the 
same  to  him  as  quinine  an'  a  damn  sight  cheaper,'" 

"Now,  then!  Andarle!  Andarle!  Off  with  you, 
every  mother's  whelp!"  A  second  roar  signalled  the 
close  of  the  function,  and  as  chaff  from  a  wind  the 
miserable  skeletons  scattered  —  seemed  to  blow  out 
and  away  from  the  booming  voice. 

"'The  sheep  know  the  voice  of  the  shepherd,'" 
Phelps  maliciously  quoted.  "Come  on  to  the  ga- 
lera?" 

Following  the  disappearing  line,  it  brought  them  to 
the  last  and  largest  of  the  huts.  Sixty  feet  long, 
thirty  wide,  it  had  yet  been  built  in  the  cunning 
tropic  fashion,  without  nail  or  scrap  of  iron.  Bamboo 
rafters,  braces,  plates,  all  were  bound  in  place  with 
pliable  bejucas.  A  couple  of  well-directed  machete 
strokes  would  have  let  out  the  split-pole  sides,  but, 
guarding  against  this,  a  mesh  of  barb-wire  covered 
them  from  end  to  end.  Wire  was  also  stretched  over 
the  rafters  inside,  forming  a  bristly  ceiling  that  re 
pelled  all  attempts  on  the  palm  thatch  above.  Fringed 
by  a  fence  eighteen  strands  high,  the  galera  was  a 
huge  cage — a  cage  within  a  cage. 

Entering,  David  saw  by  the  light  of  a  few  lanterns, 
which  waged  feeble  war  on  the  gloom,  that  a  double 
tier  of  bunks  ran  dow"n  either  side.  In  the  lower  a 
man  could  not  sit  uprightly;  his  head  would  have 
been  torn  on  the  wiry  cobweb  had  he  essayed  it  in 
the  upper;  and,  to  add  to  the  discomfort,  only  a 
petate  (straw  mat)  came  between  the  occupants'  bones 

42 


LA    LUNA 

and  the  angular  palm-ribbed  flooring.  Though  little 
larger  than  a  modern  drawing-room,  fully  fifty  engan- 
chadores — men,  women,  and  children — were  crowded 
into  its  dark  maw,  and  in  the  tiers  that  stretched 
in  the  gloom  beyond  the  lanterns  there  was  room 
for  as  many  more.  As,  passing  in,  the  file  paused  at 
the  iron  kettles  from  which  an  overseer  was  serving 
rice  and  frijoles,  the  swinging  lanterns  afforded  fitful 
glimpses  of  eyes  sunken  and  fever-glazed,  of  faces 
livid  beneath  their  dirt.  In  the  five  minutes  re 
quired  to  serve  the  evening  meal  a  sickening  fetor 
loaded  down  the  hot,  dank  air. 

"But  the  women  and  children?"  David  said,  as 
Hertzer  locked  the  door.  "You  surely  don't  leave 
them  in  with  the  men  ?" 

"Why  not?" 

"But  they  cannot  have  any  privacy.  Where  do 
they  wash?" 

"Privacy?"  Hertzer  grunted,  contemptuously. 
"They  wouldn't  thank  you  for  it.  As  for  washing, 
we  march  them  down  to  the  river  Sunday  afternoons. 
But  let  us  go  in.  I'm  hungry." 

"That?"  Phelps  answered  David's  glance  at  a  bell 
that  hung  in  a  tree-crotch  hard  by  the  door.  "The 
velador  (watchman),  you  know,  rings  it  every  half- 
hour  through  the  night  to  show  he's  awake." 

Dusk  had  now  merged  in  night,  close,  oppressive 
as  a  nightmare,  that  shrouded  the  jungle  across  the 
river  in  inky  blackness  which  was  accentuated  rather 
than  relieved  by  the  greenish  incandescence  of  a 

43 


THE    PLANTER 

myriad  lantern  -  flies.  Turning  a  corner,  they  sud 
denly  came  from  thick  darkness  into  a  band  of  red 
light,  and  as  Hertzer  paused  at  a  door  to  give  an 
order,  David  obtained  a  glimpse  of  women,  half- 
naked,  kneeling  beside  the  cooking-fires,  who  rubbed 
tortilla  paste  with  heavy  pins  on  stone  metates.  It 
flashed  out  a  lurid  picture  in  reddish  bronze ;  then  his 
stumblings  continued  till  he  stepped  into  lamplight 
that  streamed  between  the  house  and  outside  kitchen. 

Only  that  it  could  boast  of  a  brick-tile  flooring 
and  had  bedrooms  cut  off  its  length  by  partitions  of 
matting,  the  house  duplicated  the  galera  in  its  inside 
features.  Above  the  split-pole  siding,  the  same  ser 
ried  rows  of  brown  palm  ribs  curved  up  out  of  the 
lamplight  into  the  gloom  of  the  lofty  apex.  A  few 
chairs,  two  lounges  spread  with  native  zarapes,  a 
table  and  desk  (the  latter  piled  with  Hertzer's  pa 
pers  and  account- books),  and  a  phonograph  on  a 
wooden  stand  summed  the  furnishings,  which  bore 
the  earmarks  of  home  carpentry.  The  table  was  set 
with  iron-stone  crockery,  and  from  the  chair  that 
Hertzer  placed  for  David  he  could  see  a  woman  and 
a  girl  at  work  in  the  outside  kitchen  over  glowing 
charcoal  braziers. 

Even  at  that  distance  he  could  not  but  notice  the 
vivid  contrast  between  them  and  the  enganchadores 
he  had  just  seen  in  the  galera  cook-house.  Instead 
of  the  dirty  chocolate,  the  skin  of  the  elder  woman 
shone  like  beaten  gold — had  the  rich  hues  that  mark 
the  pure  Indian  blood  unmuddied  by  Spanish  strains. 

44 


LA    LUNA 

A  primal  woman,  round -armed,  deep  -  breasted,  her 
shapely  amplitudes  were  such  as  Phidias  dreamed 
of  and  tried  to  fix  in  marble.  A  loose  white  bodice 
clothed  them,  but  was  cut  so  short  that  her  waist  and 
bust  showed  whenever  she  raised  her  arms;  a  cotton 
cloth,  blood  red  in  color,  clothed  her  limbs.  Coming 
and  going  between  kitchen  and  table,  she  moved  with 
soft  stealth  on  naked  feet,  carrying  herself  uprightly 
and  with  balanced  ease.  Though  broad,  her  face 
was  comely  in  outline,  and  vividly  expressed  that 
brooding  motherhood,  passion -of -animal  tenderness 
peculiar  to  aboriginal  woman.  Her  voice,  answering 
a  question  of  Hertzer's,  had  that  soft  refinement  that 
had  caused  many  a  traveller  in  Mexico  to  glance  out 
of  his  window  expecting  to  see  the  best  blood  of 
Castile,  only  to  find  a  couple  of  criadas  (servant  girls) 
exchanging  the  news  of  the  town. 

In  color  the  girl  was  much  lighter.  Her  skin  ri 
valled  cream  in  hue  as  well  as  texture,  and  when  she 
bent  to  the  light  a  yellow  tide  rippled  through  the 
brown  of  her  hair.  On  a  delicate  scale,  her  feat 
ures  were  Hertzer's:  the  nose  less  pronounced,  eye 
passionate  instead  of  cruel,  mouth  sensuous  without 
his  coarseness.  Though  slighter  in  figure  than  the 
Tehuana,  she  gave  promise  of  the  same  voluptuous 
development,  which  fact  caused  David  to  set  them 
down  as  mother  and  daughter. 

"Hertzer's  daughter/'  Phelps  confirmed,  when  the 
Austrian  went  out  to  the  kitchen.  "The  other's  his 
woman." 

45 


THE    PLANTER 

"His  wife?" 

Phelps  looked  up  in  quick  annoyance.  "Look 
here,  Mann,  this  isn't  New  England,  you  know. 
When  a  fellow  has  lived,  like  Hertzer,  twenty  years 
in  the  tropics,  he's  apt  to  follow  the  patriarchs  a  bit 
in  the  matter  of  wives.  He's  had  so  many,  I  doubt 
whether  he  could  say  which  was  Patricia's  mother; 
but  he  doesn't  need  any  one  to  tell  him  that  he's  her 
father.  She's  the  apple  of  his  eye.  He  had  her 
educated  at  the  Oaxaca  Convent,  so  she  has  all  the 
small  accomplishments." 

As  aforesaid,  David's  youthful  clay  had  been 
kneaded  into  some  resemblance  of  his  mother's  pat 
tern.  Reared  in  a  community  which  held  a  fiddler 
a  suspicious  character,  and  catalogued  dancing  among 
the  deadly  sins,  it  was  perfectly  natural  that  the 
looseness  implied  in  Phelps 's  remarks  should  stick  in 
his  gorge.  When  the  girl  came  in  with  Hertzer  his 
bow  verged  on  the  imperceptible,  his  glasses  gleamed 
coldly  as  lenses  of  ice. 

"The  prig!"  Phelps  thought.  Then  remembering 
certain  beliefs  and  orthodoxies  of  his  own  that  had 
frizzled  under  tropic  heats  until  they  resembled 
nothing  so  much  as  clinkered  sins,  he  modified  his 
harsh  judgment.  "Oh,  well,  he'll  learn,  and  that, 
too,  quickly." 

The  meal  saw  the  partial  fulfilment  of  his  prophecy, 
for  youth  does  not  lend  itself  to  bigoted  condemna 
tion,  and  the  girl's  refinement  of  speech  and  manner 
— bred  of  the  convent  —  soon  wore  the  edge  off  his 


LA   LUNA 

first  sharp  judgment.  As  the  meal  progressed,  more 
over,  he  came  more  and  more  under  the  fascination 
of  a  nature  that  had  been  moulded  by  tropical  en 
vironment  out  of  all  semblance  to  the  average  North 
ern  girl,  and  as  she  could  not  open  her  lips  without 
giving  off  a  flash  from  some  unexpected  facet,  she 
had  for  him  all  the  charm  and  sparkle  of  a  vividly 
new  personality. 

These  feelings  of  his  were,  however,  not  unmixedly 
pleasant;  they  verged  too  often  on  surprise.  For 
instance,  he  revolted  when,  springing  up,  she  im 
paled  a  lantern-fly  and  pinned  it  in  her  hair,  where 
it  glowed,  waxing  and  waning  like  some  weird  em 
erald;  he  chilled  at  her  quiet  comment  on  Phelps's 
grumblings  over  the  laziness  of  his  cook-house  wom 
en —  "Why  don't  you  whip  them?" — only  to  thrill 
and  glow  all  over  as  she  took  a  fledgling  paroquet  out 
of  her  bosom  and  showered  caresses  and  endearments 
upon  it  with  sensuous  abandon. 

"I  found  it  to-day,"  she  said,  offering  it  for  his 
inspection.  "I  shall  teach  it  to  talk." 

Afterward  he  saw  many  native  women  thus  nest 
fledgling  chickens.  One  day  his  Tehuana  cook  pro 
duced  eight  which  she  was  mothering  until  their 
rightful  parent  should  have  completed  the  conquest 
of  a  last  refractory  egg,  and  so  he  came  to  understand 
where  the  girl  learned  the  practice  and  how  common 
place  it  must  have  appeared  to  herself.  But  now 
he  blushed.  Withal,  he  could  not  but  feel  her  per 
fect  innocence ;  and  what  with  these  lightning  changes 

47 


THE   PLANTER 

of  feeling,  she  impressed  him  very  much  as  the  orchids 
of  the  jungle  had  that  same  morning — splendid,  vivid, 
flaming,  yet  so  strange  as  to  mingle  revulsion  with 
admiration. 

Having,  on  her  part,  but  a  limited  experience  in 
white  men,  and  none  in  the  genus  New  England,  she 
found  his  staid  quietness  equally  strange;  but  set 
ting  it  to  bashfulness,  she  was  vastly  surprised  by  his 
blunt  refusal  to  sit  in  to  a  game  of  poker  at  the  close 
of  the  meal.  Pausing  in  shuffling  the  cards,  she 
turned  arched  brows  upon  him  while  she  advanced 
the  only  argument  that  seemed  to  her  germane  to  re 
fusals.  "We  don't  play  large  stakes.  You  couldn't 
lose  more  than  a  hundred  dollars." 

A  hundred  dollars!  Now,  Northfield  had  its  gam 
bler — a  barber,  in  whose  back  parlor  it  was  said  as 
much  as  five  dollars  of  real  money  was  won  or  lost 
in  a  single  evening.  Three-card  men,  too,  occasion 
ally  blew  into  town,  but  usually  their  shrift  was  short, 
as  they  generally  jumped  from  the  fat  of  a  private 
mobbing  into  the  fires  of  public  justice.  With  cer 
tain  other  adventurous  youths  David  had  sometimes 
played  "seven-up"  with  beans,  at  an  exchange  rate 
of  five  to  the  nickel,  in  view  of  which  reckless  ex 
perience  imagine  his  surprise.  Only  a  hundred 
dollars! 

It  was  a  difficult  situation — as  difficult  as  callow 
youth  is  called  to  face.  Hertzer's  glance  of  cold  sus 
picion  slid  like  a  lance  over  the  top  of  his  cards; 
Phelps  was  regarding  him  with  dry  amusement.  A 

48 


LA   LUNA 

touch  of  contempt  was  adding  itself  to  the  surprise 
in  the  girl's  amber  eyes.  Yet,  if  he  reddened,  he  re 
turned  a  stout  nod  to  the  Englishman's  question: 
"Perhaps  Mr.  Mann's  reasons  are  conscientious?" 
Virtue  had  triumphed — not  without  wounds  to  the 
conqueror.  Through  a  thick  magazine,  which  he 
picked  up  from  the  lounge  beside  him,  he  felt  the 
girl's  curious  glances.  He  could  not  stifle  a  feeling 
of  meanness,  and  as  later  he  noticed  the  absence  of 
the  wild  excitement,  greed  for  gain,  which  he  had 
associated  with  the  game,  insidious  doubts  of  the 
absoluteness  of  Northfield  standards  crept  into  his 
mind.  Seated  where  he  could  overlook  Hertzer's 
hand,  he  soon  perceived  that  whereas  he  had  thought 
the  game  to  be  one  entirely  of  blind  chance,  it  really 
required  the  constant  exercise  of  skill  and  shrewd 
judgment.  Twice  he  saw  Hertzer  lay  down  good 
hands,  and,  though  the  reasons  lay  beyond  his  inex 
perience,  he  felt  they  were  governed  by  causes  light 
as  a  wink.  It  was  interesting,  too,  to  note  the  dif 
ference  in  their  playing.  While  Phelps  rattled  away, 
carrying  on  a  lively  conversation  with  the  girl,  Hert 
zer  played  a  silent  game,  using  signs  to  fill  his  hand, 
shoving  the  stakes  to  the  centre  without  a  word.  Ap 
parently  indifferent,  his  gray  glance  took  in  every 
thing;  seemed,  at  each  deal,  to  pierce  down  through 
the  Englishman's  dry  imperturbability  for  the  mo 
tives  behind  his  play.  As  for  the  girl,  she  played 
like  the  eternal  feminine  the  world  over:  flushed  over 
her  winnings,  pouted  over  her  losings;  through  all, 

49 


THE    PLANTER 

shed  the  glamour  of  her  rich  presence  over  the  game. 
If  David  had  been  invited  to  play  an  hour  later, 
Draconic  virtue  might  have  shed  some  of  her  laurels. 
However,  he  was  still  looking  on  when,  after  a  stage- 
like  clatter  of  approaching  hoofs,  two  planters  from 
up-river  dropped  in,  bringing  with  them  a  Missourian 
rubber  promoter. 

Graduates  of  American  universities,  David  was 
drawn  at  once  by  the  planters'  frank  breeding,  but 
he  recoiled  from  the  promoter,  whose  starey  blue  eyes 
indicated  a  fulsome  coarseness  that  cropped  out  in 
his  instant  assumption  of  friendly  familiarity,  loud 
laughter  over  his  losings,  pretence  of  nonchalance 
at  his  winnings,  his  braggings  about  the  blooded 
games  he  had  played  "back  in  Saint  Jo."  The  girl's 
icy  stare  and  Hertzer's  swift  frown  checked  his  at 
tempts  at  compliments;  but  neither  Phelps's  dry 
sarcasm  nor  the  planters'  open  jesting  could  kill  his 
mouthings.  Continuing,  they  paved  the  way  for  his 
downfall,  which  came  when  Hertzer,  who  was  left  in 
with  him  on  a  jack-pot,  paused  to  consider  his  hand. 

Tired  of  looking  on,  David  had  returned  to  his  mag 
azine,  but  he  heard  the  Missourian  grumble:  "Just 
my  luck.  If  this  had  been  Saint  Jo  that  pot  would 
have  turned  me  something." 

"Take  your  hand  out  of  that!" 

The  imperative  challenge  brought  David  out  of 
the  magazine  in  time  to  catch  the  Missourian 's  blank 
surprise  as,  hand  still  out  -  stretched,  he  stared  at 
Hertzer  across  the  table. 


LA    LUNA 

After  that  considering  glance  at  his  cards  Hertzer 
had  dropped  them,  and  now  lightly  drummed  with 
his  finger -tips,  his  impassivity  contrasting  strongly 
with  the  other's  startled  glare.  Beside  him  his 
daughter  sat,  chin  propped  on  both  hands,  red  lips 
parted  in  the  beginnings  of  a  smile.  The  expressions 
of  the  others  varied  from  bored  disgust  in  Phelps  to 
embarrassment  in  the  planters. 

"I — I — beg  your  pardon."  Stuttering  the  apol 
ogy,  the  Missourian  withdrew  his  hand.  "I  thought 
every  one  was  out." 

"What  was  that  you  said  about  Saint  Jo?" 

Not  to  mention  his  neglect  of  the  apology,  Hertzer's 
tone  was  imperative  to  the  verge  of  insult,  and  the 
fellow  looked  up  quickly.  It  was,  however,  only  a 
flash  in  the  pan,  and,  shuffling  uneasily,  he  replied, 
with  a  grin:  "Only  that  we  don't  play  no  limit  down 
there." 

"That  so?"  Hertzer  flipped  a  twenty-dollar  bill 
to  the  centre.  "Well,  it's  your  call,  and  no  limit  but 
the  roof.  If  that  isn't  high  enough  for  your  sporty 
blood,  we'll  go  outside." 

"Oh,  I  reckon  it  '11  hold  me  for  a  while."  Laugh 
ing,  the  other  glanced  up  into  the  brown  gloom  of 
the  rafters,  but  his  merriment  was  forced.  "Twenty 
to  play — raise  you  twenty  more." 

"Raise  you  a  hundred,"  Hertzer  came  promptly 
back. 

So  far  the  Missourian  had  played  from  a  pile  at  his 
elbow,  but  now  he  had  to  reach  for  his  wallet,  and 


THE    PLANTER 

as  he  unfolded  it  upon  his  knee  David  was  in  a  posi 
tion  to  see  his  fumbling  fingers.  "Come  again!"  he 
laughed,  as  he  covered  the  bet,  but  returning  from 
the  centre  his  hand  clutched  the  table. 

So  slight  as  to  be  almost  imperceptible,  the  action 
was  yet  sufficient  to  account  for  Hertzer's  sudden 
sparkle.  "Hand  me  my  check-book,  Patricia,"  he 
said,  and  the  grim  puckers  about  his  mouth  spread 
in  a  smile  as  he  noted  that  she  had  already  taken  it 
from  the  desk. 

Several  hundred  dollars  were  already  on  the  table — 
a  large  sum  even  for  the  reckless  tropics — and  while 
he  was  writing  the  others  looked  on  in  silence — silence 
so  complete  that  David  could  hear  the  sputtering  of 
the  pen.  Glancing  around  he  saw  that  the  girl  was 
watching  her  father  with  glowing  eyes.  The  planters 
masked  excitement  under  a  show  of  rolling  cigarettes. 
If  possible,  Phelps  had  abated  a  little  of  his  boredom. 
Sitting  rigid,  the  Missourian  looked  on,  while  a  green 
ish  pallor  crept  up  through  his  malarial  sallowness. 

"Raise  you  a  thousand!" 

Through  another  silence  the  Missourian  stared  at 
the  check — stared  while  the  galera  bell  troubled  the 
hot  night  with  its  heavy  tolling.  One — two — three 
— -at  the  tenth  stroke  flooding  color  washed  out  his 
pallor,  and  he  burst  out  in  whining  protest:  "Look 
a-here!  I've  four  hundred  in  that  pot  already,  an'  a 
thousand's  a  large  sum.  I'm  not  doubting  any  one — " 
Stopping,  he  stared  helplessly  at  Phelps,  who  was 
scrawling  his  name  on  the  back  of  the  check. 

52 


LA    LUNA 

"But  I  don't  know  you,  either." 

"You  know  me?"  Taking  the  check,  one  of  the 
planters  scrawled  his  name  beneath  Phelps's  signa 
ture. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are  good  for  it,  Mr.  Ewing, 
but — "  Wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
he  shuffled  off  on  another  tack.  "I  don't  count  it 
no  shame  to  admit  that  I  haven't  that  much  about 
me.  What's  more,  I  don't  reckon  it  good  sport  to 
jump  a  fellow  above  his  limit  in  a  friendly  game. 
I'm  a  stranger — " 

Hertzer  had  looked  quietly  on,  and  now  he  reached 
suddenly  out  and  tore  up  the  check.  "How  much 
have  you?" 

"About  six  hundred." 

"Well,  I'll  write  a  check  for  five  hundred."  The 
puckers  spread  in  a  satirical  smile.  "That  '11  leave 
you  enough  to  gain  home  to  Saint  Jo." 

But  if  pricked  in  his  wind-bag,  the  boaster  had  by 
no  means  exhausted  his  shufflings.  Blinking,  he 
still  stuck  to  his  whining  argument:  "An*  that's  sure 
good  of  you,  but  I'm  doubting  my  hand's  worth  it 
in  the  face  of  your  stiff  play.  You  see,  I  was  allow 
ing  to  call  you  this  bet.  Now  if  you  let  me  copper 
your  last  for  a — " 

"Show-down?"  Taking  the  word  from  his  mouth, 
Hertzer  shook  his  head.  "It  will  cost  you  just  four 
hundred." 

Fading,  the  grin  had  left  his  face  harsh  and  cold, 
so  mercilessly  cruel  that  its  inexorableness  penetrated 

53 


THE    PLANTER 

even  the  other's  thick  hide.  He  threw  his  hand 
among  the  discards.  "Well — it's  yours.  But  you'll 
give  me  my  revenge?" 

"Sure!" 

As  Hertzer  gathered  the  cards  for  a  fresh  deal, 
Ewing  rose.  "Leave  me  out.  The  moon's  up,  and 
I'm  going  for  a  breath  of  air.  Will  you  come,  Mr. 
Mann?" 

David  had  looked  on  with  an  interest  so  absorbing 
that  he  started  at  the  sound  of  his  own  name,  and 
following  down  the  garden  path  he  saw  every  detail 
of  the  dramatic  scene — Hertzer's  fierce  face,  the  girl's 
golden  gaze,  the  promoter's  craven  grin  —  mirrored 
in  splashes  of  moonlight  beneath  the  rubber.  His 
first  remark,  too,  displayed  curiosity  more  than  the 
disgust  that  was  to  be  expected  from  his  training. 

"Wasn't  Mr.  Hertzer  a  trifle  hard  on  your  friend?" 

Ewing  turned  with  a  shrug.  "He  was  looking  for 
it,  and  Hertzer  couldn't  be  expected  to  stand  for  all 
that  brag.  If  he  hadn't  called  his  bluff,  some  one 
else  would.  He's  no  friend  of  mine,"  he  added. 
"Brought  letters  to  the  plantation  from  our  Chicago 
office,  and  of  course  we  have  to  show  him  around." 

He  smiled  at  the  artlessness  of  the  next  question. 
"Who  had  the  best  hand?  Quien  sabe?  The  Mis- 
sourian  was  certainly  bluffing  or  he'd  have  whacked 
up  for  a  show-down.  Hertzer  may  have  been,  but 
if  he  was  no  one  will  ever  know  it.  No,  we  don't 
usually  play  so  big,"  he  laughingly  explained  away 
one  more  query.  "I  can  readily  see  how,  dropping 

54 


LA   LUNA 

in  on  a  game  like  this,  you  might  take  us  for  dyed-in- 
the-wool  gamblers,  though  it  wouldn't  matter  if  we 
were.  What  a  fellow  wins  one  night,  he  loses  the 
next,  and  the  luck  strikes  a  fairly  even  balance  at 
the  end  of  the  year.  But  come  on,  and  we'll  sit  down 
on  that  tree." 

From  their  seat  they  looked  out  over  the  river, 
whose  double  bow  cut  a  huge  initial  —  gigantic  S — 
out  of  the  sable  jungle.  The  night-birds  had  stopped 
calling;  even  the  chacalahuas  (wild  hens  of  the  wil 
derness)  had  ceased  their  noisy  cackle.  So  bright  was 
the  moonlight  that  each  pebble  showed  like  a  black 
hole  in  the  pale  yellow  of  the  sandy  playa  opposite, 
and,  pointing  at  what  appeared  to  be  a  gnarled  limb, 
Ewing  said:  "  Look  at  the  'gator." 

1 '  Where  ?     That  ?     Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Just  watch."  Pulling  his  gun  —  a  Colt's  forty- 
five — he  fired,  and  instantly  a  silvery  spume,  geyser 
of  pearls,  rose  where  the  log  had  been,  to  fall  and 
subside  in  lacey  shimmerings.  "Can't  kill  them," 
he  commented,  "unless  you  get  the  brain  through 
the  eye  or  the  heart  from  behind  the  shoulder.  How 
ever,  the  shot's  not  wasted.  Teach  him  to  keep  clear 
of  our  bathing-grounds." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  bathe  there?" 
David  asked. 

"Of  course;  so  will  you  to-morrow  morning." 

"But  isn't  it  dangerous?"  Afterward  he  learned 
that  the  saurians  are  as  shy  of  man  as  any  of  the 
jungle  children  ;  but  before  Ewing  could  answer 

55 


THE    PLANTER 

Hertzer's  bass  boomed  out  from  the  veranda:  "Who's 
shooting?  That  you,  Ewing?  Quit  it;  you'll  raise 
the  camp." 

"What  a  voice!"  Ewing  admiringly  commented. 
"How  do  you  like  him?  No,"  he  admitted,  "you 
haven't  had  time  to  judge,  though  I  doubt  whether 
longer  acquaintance  will  help  you.  That  Slav-Jew 
blood  is  a  weird  mixture.  He's  a  puzzle.  A  perfect 
tiger  with  his  engan chars,  he's  fond  of  animals,  loves 
his  horse  next  to  his  daughter,  and,  if  rumor  doesn't 
lie,  killed  an  Indian  who  maltreated  his  dog.  And 
he's  a  good  neighbor — so  long  as  it  isn't  business." 
Pausing  to  laugh  over  some  memory  that  had  in 
stigated  the  qualification,  he  went  on:  "It  may  seem 
funny  for  me  to  speak  like  this,  but,  isolated  as  we 
are,  we  have  to  do  a  certain  amount  of  trucking  and 
trading  with  one  another,  and  he's  cinched  us  so 
often  that  we  feel  it  a  duty  to  put  the  stranger  wise. 
So  look  out  if  you  trade  with  him.  Apart  from  that 
he's  all  right — hospitable  and  kind  in  his  rough  way. 
He  nursed  Meagher  through  yellow-fever — rather,  he 
swore  him  out  of  it,  for  Meagher  always  said  that  he 
got  well  to  spite  him.  And  you  can  depend  upon 
him  in  a  pinch.  Brave?  He  walked  on  his  lonely 
into  Carruthers'  galera  and  took  the  machetes  away 
from  fifty  mutineers.  Then — you  saw  Carmen,  the 
boatman?  Did  you  notice  his  eye?  Bad  Injun,  all 
through.  He  was  stableman  over  at  Las  Glorias  till 
he  got  drunk  one  day  and  laid  siege  to  Phelps  in  his 
house.  Now,  it's  no  reflection  on  Phelps.  I  wouldn't 

56 


LA   LUNA 

have  budged  myself  while  that  drunken  brute  sat 
by  the  door  whetting  his  knife  to  a  razor-edge.  But 
Hertzer,  who  happened  along  in  the  nick  of  time,  kicked 
him  off  the  veranda  without  even  troubling  to  pull 
his  gun."  Pausing,  he  laughed  again.  "You  bet  it 
was  nerve,  but  right  on  top  of  it  the  Jew  came  crop 
ping  out.  While  Phelps  was  still  in  his  funk  Hertzer 
bought  Carmen's  store  debt  for  a  song,  then  ran  him 
eight  hours  ahead  of  his  horse  to  the  Jefe-Politico  of 
San  Juan,  and  had  him  engan chared  for  debt  to  his 
own  plantation.  Trust  him  to  turn  a  penny  out  of 
any  old  deal.  But  it  was  nervy,  all  right — nervy  as 
the  deuce.  Why,  these  woods  are  full  of  volunteers 
— free  Indians,  you  know;  we  call  them  that  to  dis 
tinguish  them  from  the  enganchars  —  whom  he  has 
beaten  or  cheated.  Yet  he  sits  at  night,  lights  blaz 
ing,  windows  wide  open,  and  so  far  no  one  has  taken 
the  dare.  Yes,  they'll  get  him  yet,"  he  admitted. 
"Some  dark  night  he'll  step  off  his  veranda,  and — 
plunk!  a  knife-handle  will  hit  his  ribs.  In  the  mean 
time  he  shears  and  drives  them  like  sheep.  But  you 
must  be  tired,"  he  finished,  rising.  "I  have  to  meet 
the  ranchero  who  butchers  for  the  plantations  here 
to-morrow,  so  I  stay  all  night.  What  do  you  say  if 
we  turn  in  ?  No  need  to  disturb  Hertzer.  He  keeps 
bunks  rigged  up  for  visitors  in  one  of  the  out-houses." 
Their  way  took  them  in  among  the  huts  which 
loomed  sere  and  black  in  the  tender  light,  and,  passing 
the  galera,  the  night  wind  brought  them  a  whiff  of  its 
fetor.  A  natural  excitement  over  the  evening's  novel 
5  57 


THE    PLANTER 

experiences  had  abated  in  David  the  misgivings  he 
had  felt  approaching  La  Luna,  but  issuing  now  on  a 
huge  sigh,  the  sleep  breathing  of  the  imprisoned  la 
borers  poisoned  the  night  like  an  evil  breath,  trans 
muting  the  very  moonlight  into  a  sorrowful  emanation. 

At  the  house  Phelps  and  the  Missourian  were  quar 
relling  over  a  play,  and  just  then  Hertzer's  boom 
drowned  their  wrangling:  "Start  up  the  music,  Pa 
tricia!" 

Came  her  laugh;  but  though  earth  knows  nothing 
happier  than  girlish  laughter  issuing  from  lighted 
windows,  it  rang  hollow  in  the  shadow  of  that  dark 
galera — sounded  wicked,  uncanny  as  merriment  at  a 
funeral.  He  could  not  but  feel  the  dreadful  contrast : 
laughter,  light,  good  cheer  —  shouldering  squalor, 
gloom,  fetid  despair;  and  driving  it  deeper  arose  the 
brassy  blare  of  the  phonograph,  affronting  the  pale 
night  with  its  prostitution  of  music. 

He  sighed  his  relief  when  the  bunk-house  door 
closed  behind  them.  But  he  had  not  considered 
the  bird-cage  siding.  The  blatant  strains  filtered 
through,  continuing  until  Phelps — who  was  also  stay 
ing  the  night — came  stumbling  over  the  threshold. 
For  hours  thereafter  he  lay  and  stared  up  into  the 
raftered  gloom  above  a  trickle  of  moonlight  while 
the  galera  bell  timed  his  tossings  with  melancholy 
tellings,  and  when  finally  he  fell  asleep  it  was  to  take 
his  place  in  the  miserable  procession  of  the  afternoon, 
to  file  with  it  through  the  land  of  dreams  on  an  end 
less  trail  of  sorrow. 

58 


IN    WHICH    THE    SHEARLING    FEELS    THE    WIND 

THE  crack  of  a  rifle  aroused  David  at  daybreak, 
and,  dressing  quickly,  he  joined  Phelps  and  Ewing 
on  the  bank  outside  just  as  a  white  belly  flashed  out 
of  the  water  below.  It  showed  only  an  instant,  but 
that  was  sufficient;  for  a  bronze  body  shot  out  from 
the  bank  and  followed  down,  showing  in  the  clear 
water  foreshortened  to  the  size  of  a  frog.  Then, 
out  of  a  splash,  Carmen,  the  boatman,  emerged,  up 
holding  the  fish  in  his  hands. 

"It  isn't  so  much  a  trick  as  it  looks,"  Ewing  said. 
"You  gauge  your  angle,  and  aim  a  few  inches  below 
to  correct  the  deflection.  Try  your  luck;  there's  a 
big  fellow  coming  in  to  the  bank.  They're  poor 
eating,"  he  added,  after  the  fish  had  scuttled  away 
from  the  wide  splash — "soft,  like  all  warm-water  fish, 
yet  palatable  enough  after  steady  frijoles.  Come  on 
down  for  a  dip." 

Rising  five  minutes  thereafter,  the  sun  saw  David 
dive  from  the  identical  spot  whence  the  alligator  had 
taken  the  water,  and  albeit  he  imagined  the  ugly  beast 
tugging  at  his  toes,  he  suffered  no  other  damage. 

59 


THE    PLANTER 

Explosion  best  describes  the  sunrise,  covering 
both  the  bursting  of  the  orb  from  crimson  mists  that 
rolled  like  a  conflagration  over  the  silent  jungle  and 
the  orgy  of  sound  that  followed.  Parrots  and  ma 
caws  competed  with  the  noisy  chacalahuas  in  a 
chorus  for  which  booming  monkeys  and  piping  wood- 
doves  supplied  the  bass  and  alto;  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  the  Tehuana's  high,  clear  call  announced  the 
breakfast  at  which  David  ate  with  relish  his  first 
tortilla. 

Patricia  did  not  sit  down  with  them,  and  toward 
the  close  of  the  meal  a  feeling  so  subtle  as  to  be  at 
first  indefinable  was  beginning  to  assert  itself  as  dis 
appointment  when  she  suddenly  appeared  in  her 
bedroom  door.  Pausing  to  stretch  in  a  languorous 
yawn,  the  sleeves  of  her  kimono  slid  back,  and  David 
glimpsed  polished  arms,  a  mouth  vividly  red  behind 
small  teeth,  loose  hairs  flying — an  aura  of  gold  about 
heavy  brown  masses.  Falling  into  her  figure,  the 
loose  folds  added  billowy  voluptuousness  to  the  sen- 
suousness  which  exhales  from  a  woman  fresh  from 
her  sleep. 

With  a  nod  and  a  smile  she  passed  out  down  the 
path  to  the  river,  and  David  did  not  see  her  again, 
for  the  moso  had  already  brought  his  horse  to  the 
door.  But  the  picture  went  and  stayed  with  him. 
Always  she  appeared  in  his  thought  thereafter  as  he 
saw  her  that  morning — luxurious,  voluptuous,  sen 
suously  beautiful,  yet  vividly  alive  as  a  young  tigress. 

Ewing,  whose  plantation  lay  on  the  other  side  of 
60 


THE    SHEARLING    FEELS   THE    WIND 

Verda,  was  to  ride  with  him,  but  stayed  at  the  stables 
to  wrangle  with  the  Mexican  rancher o,  who  was  cut 
ting  a  beef  carcass  into  rope-like  strips  to  dry  in  the 
sun.  So  he  rode  out  with  Hertzer  and  Phelps,  who 
were  going  to  inspect  some  young  rubber. 

For  half  a  mile  the  path  led  through  clean  rubber 
— beautiful  trees,  whose  wand-like  branches  and  rich 
.tufted  leaves  drooped  from  the  top,  umbrella  fashion. 
Passing  through  this  planting,  Hertzer  constantly 
evidenced  the  trait  that  expressed  itself  in  his  gar 
den.  He  seemed  to  know  each  tree — could  recall  at 
sight  the  cause  which  affected  its  growth  for  good  or 
evil.  There  was  something  parental  in  his  interest; 
the  glance  he  turned  on  a  sick  sapling  was  tender  as 
those  he  kept  for  his  daughter — softer,  in  that  it  was 
devoid  of  animal  love,  the  fierce,  almost  sexual,  pas 
sion  that  coarsened  his  love  for  her.  Carrying  his 
saddle-machete  unsheathed,  he  lopped  useless  limbs 
as  he  rode  along,  while  his  cold  face  kindled  almost 
to  kindliness  as  he  talked  theory  and  methods  of 
rubber  culture  in  the  light  of  his  own  experience. 

Here  he  had  planted  bananas,  that  the  heavy  shade 
might  kill  out  the  grass,  deadliest  enemy  of  young 
rubber.  There  he  had  sown  melons  and  squash  for 
the  same  purpose.  Yonder  he  was  experimenting  with 
cacao,  tapioca,  and  yucca  for  starch.  But  the  hand 
of  the  practical  Jew  had  bent  each  experiment  to 
some  present  use:  melons  and  squash  would  feed 
his  pigs;  bananas  vary  the  diet  of  his  enganchadores; 
the  cacao  served  his  own  table,  and  brought  thrice 

61 


THE    PLANTER 

the  price  of  coffee  on  the  market  of  Vera  Cruz.  Yet 
pride — the  pride  of  work— dominated  even  that  strong 
trait,  governing  his  every  gesture,  rang  in  his  tone 
as  he  reined  in  on  an  elevation  and  swept  the  pros 
pect. 

"There  isn't  a  finer  stand  on  the  Isthmus." 

The  rubber  certainly  justified  his  boast.  From 
their  feet  it  ran  off  ruling  thousands  of  acres  without 
a  break  in  the  dark-green  lines  that  drew  to  a  point — 
narrow  cape — where  the  huts  rose,  cones  of  gold,  under 
the  morning  sun.  Beyond  and  all  around  the  jungle 
heaved  and  tossed  its  uneven  masses,  rolling  in  great 
waves  off  and  away  to  break  on  the  dim  shores  of  a 
distant  range.  Here  a  scum  of  yellow  palms  flecked 
the  green,  there  clump  cedar  thrust  up  like  brown 
jagged  roofs;  underfoot  a  flame  of  flowers  ran  over  the 
grass;  and  all  was  enclosed,  hemmed  in  by  an  enor 
mous  cumuli — huge  cloud  pillars  upholding  a  brazen 
sky. 

Kindling  to  its  magnificence,  David  asked:  "Is 
Verda  like  this?" 

"Well — not  quite,"  Phelps  dryly  answered,  and, 
turning,  Hertzer  rode  on  laughing. 

A  little  dashed,  David  followed,  but  his  enthusiasm 
would,  in  any  case,  have  quickly  died,  for  topping  a 
second  rise  they  came  suddenly  upon  Hertzer's  en- 
ganchadores. 

Their  line  was  strung  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along 
the  face  of  the  monte  (unclean  rubber).  Though,  as 
Hertzer  explained,  this  particular  planting  had  been 

62 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS    THE    WIND 

cleaned  to  the  very  dust  six  months  ago,  a  dense 
tangle  rose  thrice  the  height  of  a  man,  swamping  the 
young  trees  with  its  fecund  life.  Striking  in  against 
the  cleared  face,  the  tropical  sun  extracted  its  es 
sences,  heating  the  dank  air  till  it  respired  like  steam, 
in  which  frightful  atmosphere  the  men  worked  shear 
ing  grass,  shrub,  and  weeds  close  to  the  ground  with 
heavy  machetes.  Barely  eight  o'clock,  and  their  dirty 
cottons  were  already  coated  with  a  glistening  scum  of 
sweat.  Their  pantings  could  be  heard  at  a  hundred 
yards ;  yet  if  a  man  paused — be  it  only  to  straighten 
a  weary  back — a  machete  of  one  of  the  eight  cabos, 
who  oversaw  the  line,  would  drop  flat  across  his 
shoulders.  Exhausting  labor  in  a  cool  climate,  it 
was  murder  under  the  boiling  sun ;  but  Hertzer  merely 
laughed  as  David  remarked  that  no  Northern  farmer 
would  work  a  horse  in  such  heat. 

"  No  more  would  I."  Leaning  over,  Hertzer  smash 
ed  a  fly  on  the  neck  of  his  beast,  an  action  singularly 
at  variance  with  his  answer.  "  For  I'd  own  the  horse, 
and  there's  the  difference.  I  can  only  contract  these 
fellows  for  six  months  by  the  law,  but  they  can't 
leave  till  they're  out  of  my  debt;  and  what  with  the 
labor  contratisto's  fee,  the  railroad  fares  from  the  city 
of  Mexico,  and  clothing  that  I  supply  them,  that 
takes  a  year."  With  a  frankness  that  almost  steril 
ized  his  brutality,  he  added:  "In  that  time  I  calcu 
late  to  get  everything  out  of  them  that  is  in.  A  man 
is  never  worth  a  damn  again  after  I've  finished  with 
him." 

63 


THE    PLANTER 

"  But  is  it  necessary — "  David  was  beginning,  when 
Phelps  interrupted. 

"There's  the  point.  It  is.  This  may  seem  rotten 
bad  from  a  humanitarian  point  of  view,  but  ethics 
always  did,  and  always  will,  give  way  to  economic 
necessity,  and  with  all  its  faults  this  is  the  only  prac 
tical  system.  The  world  needs  rubber,  and  needs 
it  badly,  for  the  wild  supply  is  giving  out.  But  you 
can't  grow  it  without  labor,  for  here  the  jungle  grows 
eighteen  feet  in  a  single  season —runs  like  a  flood 
across  the  plantations.  Of  course,  it's  hard  on  the 
laborer;  the  enganchars  die  like  flies  in  the  rainy 
season.  But,  after  all,  it  is  only  another  and  more 
modern  form  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  if 
they  die,  what  of  it?  They  are  the  thieves,  drunks, 
and  debtors  of  the  Mexican  cities — offal,  you  might 
say — and  I  really  believe  we  do  a  service  to  mankind 
at  large  by  transmuting  their  worthless  lives  into 
serviceable  rubber.  There's  the  point  —  the  world 
must  have  rubber,  and  it  is  up  to  us  to  supply  it,  and 
you'll  have  to  sink  the  humanities  if  you  expect  to 
do  your  share.  Did  you  ever  read  Mr.  Benjamin 
Kidd  on  The  Control  of  the  Tropics  ?  Well,  all  this  is 
foreshadowed — ' ' 

"Oh,  damn  Ben  Kidd!"  Hertzer  broke  in,  impa 
tiently,  on  the  other's  pedantries.  "To  hell  with 
your  evolutionary  theories!  All  I  know  is  that  I've 
got  to  clean  my  rubber,  and  I'll  do  it  if  I  kill  the  last 
peon  in  Mexico." 

Afterward  David  came  to  understand  their  in- 
64 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS    THE    WIND 

effable  callousness;  to  recognize  that  constant  ex 
posure  to  suffering  blunts  sympathy,  and  that,  in 
heriting  the  system  from  the  Spaniards,  the  American 
planters  had  gradually  passed  from  revulsion  at  its 
cruelties  to  blind  acceptance  as  the  only  possible 
method.  He  himself  was  to  feel  the  effects  of  usage. 
But  at  this  first  contact,  while  those  fevered  skele 
tons  bent  at  their  heavy  toil  under  his  eyes,  he  could 
accept  neither  the  frank  brutality  of  the  one  nor  the  dry 
sophistries  of  the  other.  Silent,  he  remained  uncon 
vinced,  and  just  then  Ewing  rode  up  with  the  moso 
and  pack-horses,  and  they  proceeded  on  their  jour 
ney. 

"Remember  that  there's  always  an  extra  plate  at 
my  table!"  Hertzer  called  after. 

"And  if  you  get  stuck  or  need  advice,  I'm  your 
nearest  neighbor!"  Phelps  shouted.  Then  he  turned, 
grinning.  "What  do  you  think  of  him?" 

Hertzer  shrugged.  "A  bit  of  a  change  after 
Meagher." 

"I  should  say.  Innocence  itself.  I  think  he  was 
a  bit  shocked  at  your  household  arrangements." 

"He  was,  eh?     Wait  till  he  sees  your  layout." 

This  time  Phelps  shrugged.  "Rather — wait  till 
he  sees  Andrea."  And  they  both  burst  out  laughing. 

When,  an  hour  later,  David  rode  out  of  the  jungle 
upon  the  said  "layout,"  it  proved  to  be  a  three-year- 
old  boy  and  a  girl  of  five  with  their  mother,  a  shapely 
Tehuana,  who  gave  them  musical  greeting  from  the 

65 


THE    PLANTER 

door  of  Phelps's  hut.  The  boy  was  almost  as  dark 
as  she,  but  the  girl,  who  rode  at  Ewing's  saddle-bow 
across  the  plantation,  combined  Indian  depth  of  eyes 
and  hair  with  an  almost  Saxon  fairness. 

His  remark,  "Phelps's  kid,"  fully  explained  the 
Englishman's  testiness  concerning  Hertzer's  patri 
archal  practice,  and  his  further  observations  were 
equally  illumining.  "You'll  see  a  good  deal  of  this 
sort  of  thing  down  here,  Mann,  and  I  suppose  that  it 
is  to  be  expected — at  least,  I  don't  feel  qualified  to 
judge,  for  I  brought  my  wife  down  to  keep  me  straight. 
But  one  thing  is  certain:  you  cannot  throw  healthy 
civilized  men  among  savage  women  for  long  periods 
of  time  without  detriment  to  the  moralities  as  we 
know  them  at  home.  They  are  bound  to  take  native 
wives,  and  if  the  practice  ended  there  it  wouldn't  be 
so  bad.  The  women  are  none  the  worse  for  it,  be 
cause  it  fits  in  with  their  come-and-go  ideas  of  mar 
riage.  But" — -pausing,  he  patted  the  child's  dark 
curls — "here's  the  hell  of  it — right  here  in  Felice's 
small  person.  Of  course,  Phelps  will  do  the  right 
thing  by  her — as  far  as  he  can.  Intends,  at  present, 
to  have  her  educated  as  Hertzer  did  Patricia.  But, 
to  my  thinking,  that  will  only  leave  her  in  worse  case. 
Sooner  or  later  Phelps  will  go  home — your  upper- 
class  Englishmen  always  do.  Then  what  becomes  of 
Felice?  Without  education,  she  would  settle  down 
in  her  natural  sphere  with  some  volunteer  Indian; 
with  it,  there's  nothing  left  for  her  but  to  become 
some  white  man's  mistress." 

66 


THE    SHEARLING    FEELS   THE   WIND 

Viewing  the  flower  face,  small,  comely  lines  that 
protruded  from  her  single  garment,  a  wee  white  shirt, 
David  found  it  impossible  to  conceive  of  desertion. 
"Surely  he  couldn't  leave  such  a  pretty  tot?" 

Setting  her  down,  Ewing  looked  frowningly  after 
her  as  she  ran  at  full  speed  of  her  short  legs  back  to 
her  mother.  "  I  have  known  a  half-dozen  who  did. 
No,  the  best  we  can  wish  her  is  that  Phelps  gets  out 
while  she's  still  a  baby." 

Plunging  again  into  the  jungle,  the  trail  dropped 
over  a  hundred-foot  bank  into  a  deep  arroyo,  first  of 
a  series  that  alternated  with  morasses  in  the  stagnant 
gloom  of  palms  and  tall  timber,  and  as,  for  another 
hour,  the  horses  were  either  laboring,  belly-deep,  in 
sticky  mud,  or  tobogganing  down  on  bank  on  spread 
haunches  to  scramble  like  cats  up  another,  conversa 
tion  narrowed  down  to  an  occasional  direction  from 
Ewing. 

At  noon  they  emerged  from  dank,  sticky  shade, 
plunged  into  the  bath  of  heat  and  fierce  sunlight  that 
drenched  the  Verda  clearing,  and  looking  over  it 
from  the  arroyo,  which  formed  the  eastern  boundary, 
David  understood  why  Hertzer  had  laughed  at  Phelps' 
dry  answer. 

From  low  hills  the  land  ran  in  hummocks  and  ridges 
to  the  river,  which  here  wound  through  sand-flats. 
Around  an  unsightly  jumble  of  huts,  on  a  centre 
ridge,  some  fifty  acres  of  year-old  rubber  reared  its 
dark-green  foliage  from  a  litter  of  stumps,  fire-scarred 
limbs,  trunks  of  felled  trees,  beyond  and  around 

67 


THE    PLANTER 

which  small  patch  young  jungle  submerged  the 
clearing.  But  of  rubber,  the  vast  and  thrifty  cultures 
of  Mr.  Osgood's  pamphlet,  David  saw  nothing. 

"Used  to  be  some — over  there,"  Ewing  answered 
his  dismayed  question.  "Three  hundred  thousand 
trees?"  Doubling  in  the  saddle,  he  hooted  and 
howled  in  derision  as  David  quoted  the  pamphlet. 
"You  might  find  ten — with  a  microscope.  You  see, 
the  old  company  left  Meagher  without  money  for 
three  years,  and  the  jungle  simply  ran  in  and  swamped 
the  plantings.  I  went  through  it  with  him  one  day, 
and  found  perhaps  fifteen  hectares — forty  or  so  acres, 
you  know — that  will  pay  for  the  clearing.  But  even 
that  is  badly  set  back.  It  would  be  better  to  let  it 
all  grow  up  for  a  second  burning.  Practically,  you'll 
have  to  begin  all  over  again." 

"And  he  wants — my  mother — to  invest  her  entire 
fortune — -in  this!"  David  gasped. 

Ewing  was  leading,  and  he  whirled  in  the  saddle. 
"Who?  Osgood?  He's  the  slim-fingered  chap  who 
came  down  to  buy  the  plantation?  Phew!  Mann, 
telegraph  her  at  once!  You  can  send  it  out  by  the 
moso  when  he  goes  back  to-morrow.  And  mind  you 
pitch  it  strong.  Why,  if  Verda  was  La  Luna,  with 
its  fine  showing,  I'd  advise  just  as  strongly  against 
the  investment,  for  it  has  yet  to  be  proved  that  the 
millions  sunk  in  American  rubber  will  ever  come  out 
again." 

This  was  not  all  that  he  said.  There  was  more,  much 
more,  and  it  was  delivered  with  a  heat  that  must 

68 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS   THE   WIND 

have  set  many  pairs  of  ears  sizzling  in  circles  of  Amer 
ican  high  finance;  but,  as  in  his  excitement  he  forgot 
a  pregnant  caution  relative  to  the  wire,  it  might  all 
have  been  left  unsaid  so  far  as  David  was  concerned. 
Had  he  warned  him  to  have  the  Gringo  operator 
charge  it  against  the  plantation,  according  to  the 
custom  on  that  river,  the  moso  could  never  have 
yielded  to  the  lure  of  five  pesos  intrusted  to  him  for 
payment  thereof.  But  as  he  did  not,  it  may  as  well 
be  stated  here,  as  elsewhere,  that  the  inquest  held  a 
week  later  by  the  Jefe-Politico  of  San  Juan  on  such 
remains  as  came  out  of  a  drunken  brawl  with  ma 
chetes,  revealed  not  the  slightest  trace  of  either  wire 
or  pesos.  As,  however,  all  this  was  still  of  the  future, 
the  narrative  goes  on  with  Ewing's  concluding  remark : 

"The  work-folk  are  going  in  to  dinner,  I  see.  We'd 
better  hurry,  for  we  may  have  to  break  in  on  their 
rations." 

Raising  his  eyes,  David  now  saw  just  such  another 
procession  as  that  of  the  woods  winding  across  the 
clearing.  It  seemed,  indeed,  that  wherever  he  was 
to  meet  them  the  enganchadores  resolved  into  files 
or  lines,  driblets  of  dirty  humanity  thinly  streaming 
over  the  face  of  the  land;  but  it  had  remained  for 
this  to  break  the  back  of  his  patience  by  the  addi 
tion  of  a  last  cruel  straw.  For  though  they  had  bent 
for  seven  hours  under  the  broiling  sun  at  the  toilsome 
machete  work,  each  man  was  loaded  down  with  a 
log  that  would  have  tried  his  freshest  strength.  Like 
a  sick  snake  the  line  was  wobbling  in  and  out  the 

69 


THE    PLANTER 

stumps  when  the  new  master  of  Verda  descended 
upon  it  and  Maria  Guadaloupe,  the  mandador,  who 
walked  behind. 

Paced  better  describes  the  mandador's  movement, 
for  he  swung  in  his  gait  like  a  leopard.  Low-browed, 
broad-cheeked,  his  face  was  not  unpleasing.  His 
brown  eye  twinkled,  and  he  laughed  as  a  man  stum 
bled;  his  voice,  addressing  the  laggard,  was  low, 
almost  caressing  in  tone.  "Move  a  little  faster, 
please?"  A  mother  could  not  have  spoken  more 
gently  to  her  child,  but  a  tyrant  imperiousness  under 
lay  the  smiling  surface;  for  when  the  man  suddenly 
sank  under  his  load  a  blaze  burned  out  the  twinkle, 
his  mouth  drew  in  a  savage  line,  his  machete  flashed 
up  and  fell  with  a  strident  curse.  Heedless  of  the 
dumb  eyes,  protesting  quiverings  of  the  worn-out 
body,  he  raised  to  strike  again,  but  stopped  as,  with 
angry  clatter  of  hoofs,  David  came  at  him  as  though 
to  ride  him  down.  But  his  advent  was  worthily 
described  by  the  mandador  for  the  benefit  of  Rafaela, 
his  woman,  at  dinner  an  hour  later: 

"It  is  that  he  falls  upon  me  like  the  winter  norther, 
all  blowing  and  blustrous,  and  talking  so  quickly  that 
I  who,  as  thou  knowest,  Rafaela,  speak  the  Americano 
muy  facile,  comprende  only  the  'damns'  until  the 
Senor  Ewing  rides  up  to  tell  that  this  is  the  new 
manager  in  place  of  the  Senor  Meagher,  and  that  I 
am  to  make  the  hombres  cast  off  the  wood — the  wood, 
see  you,  that  is  needed  to  cook  the  meal!  Was  ever 
such  a  madness!" 

70 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS   THE    WIND 

Of  such  madnesses  Maria  was  to  see  so  many  in  the 
following  weeks  that  his  eyebrows  took  to  roosting 
permanently  under  the  eaves  of  his  hair,  where  they 
now  retired  while  he  explained  the  cook-house  need. 

"  Better  let  them  take  some  of  it,"  Ewing  suggested ; 
so  after  compromising  on  two  men  to  a  log,  David 
rode  on  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Rafaela. 

A  shrill  vituperation  and  thud  of  blows  met  them 
as  they  approached  the  cook-house,  and,  riding  up 
to  the  door,  David  saw  through  a  blue  veil  of  smoke 
a  woman,  big  and  burly  as  a  man,  who  was  beating  a 
thin  slip  of  an  enganchada  with  a  stick  as  thick  as  her 
arm. 

"She  burned  a  tortilla,  the  hussy!"  the  virago 
grumbled,  explaining  to  Ewing.  "The  beast  fools 
too  much  time  on  her  babe." 

David's  eyes  had  been  drawn  to  the  women  who 
knelt  at  the  metates  and  rubbed  corn  into  paste  with  a 
movement  very  like,  but  infinitely  harder,  than  that 
of  a  laundress  upon  a  washboard.  Outside  the  noon 
sun  was  dropping  vertical  rays  upon  the  hut,  adding 
its  heat  to  that  of  the  smoky  fires ;  sweat  rolled  down 
naked  breasts  and  shoulders  as  they  slaved  with  the 
heavy  stone  pins,  casting  the  while  frightened  glances 
up  at  the  furious  head  woman.  And  now  he  saw 
three  brown  mites  on  piles  of  dirty  rags  over  against 
the  split-pole  siding.  Stark  naked,  they  lay  kicking 
feebly  under  the  attacks  of  the  rodedores  (devouring 
flies),  whose  every  bite  brings  blood.  But  whereas 
a  single  nip  would  have  drawn  a  lusty  howl  from  a 

7* 


THE    PLANTER 

child  of  civilization,  the  tiny  creatures  had  already 
learned  the  lesson  of  that  squalid  life — to  endure  in 
silence.  A  writhing  of  their  puny  features  repre 
sented  their  best  at  a  cry;  but  though  the  mute  woe 
of  it  would  have  brought  a  Northern  mother  rushing 
with  tender  cries,  it  produced  only  a  glance  of  stealthy 
misery  from  the  slaves  of  the  metates. 

"That's  Rafaela."  Ewing  answered  his  question. 
"She's  the  mandador's  wife,  and  bosses  the  cook 
house." 

"Then  tell  her  to  give  them  time  to  look  after  their 
babies,"  David  said,  and  so  rode  on  with  his  sick 
heart  toward  the  jacale  which  had  been  Meagher's 
house. 

"Her  daughter  did  Meagher's  cooking,"  Ewing  con 
tinued,  following.  "And  you  can't  do  better  than 
keep  her  on,  for  she  speaks  a  little  English  and  makes 
a  stagger  at  American  cooking."  Laughing,  he  add 
ed:  "But  you  will  have  to  look  out  that  she  doesn't 
put  you  in  the  same  boat  with  Phelps  and  Hertzer. 
She's  a  raving  beauty  in  her  Indian  way.  There  she 
is  now,  coming  out  of  the  outside  kitchen.  Ole! 
Andrea!  Bring  the  key!" 

At  his  shout  the  woman — girl,  rather,  for  she  could 
not  have  been  older  than  twenty — disappeared,  but 
came  quickly  out  again  and  stood  waiting,  poised 
on  a  rich  hip.  As  they  approached  she  returned 
Ewing's  nod,  then  took  David  in  with  a  swift  glance 
that  embraced  his  personal  assets  from  the  brim  of 
his  hat  to  the  tips  of  his  shoes.  The  survey  was  ap- 

72 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS    THE   WIND 

parently  satisfactory,  for  her  large  black  eyes,  white 
teeth,  red  lips  were  equally  implicated  in  flashing 
welcome. 

"All  that  I  have  is  yours,  seftor." 

While  she  was  fumbling  the  rusty  padlock,  David 
was  able  to  add  to  his  slower  inventory  a  straight 
nose,  broad  forehead,  clouding  hair,  skin  fine  as 
yellow  satin,  perfect  arms  and  shoulders,  and  a 
figure  that  fluxed  in  soft  moulds  beneath  her  white 
chemise. 

"Come  into  your  house,  senor?"  she  invited,  throw 
ing  wide  the  door. 

"It  is  just  as  Meagher  left  it,"  Ewing  warned. 
"  So  be  prepared  for  a  bug  or  two."  As  two  scorpions 
and  a  tarantula  led  a  legion  of  fat  cockroaches  in  a 
race  for  the  palm  thatch,  he  laughed.  "You'll  have 
to  get  used  to  them,  for  this  is  a  country  of  insects. 
Muchos  insectos,  eh,  Andrea?"  And  when  she  nod 
ded,  smiling,  he  ran  merrily  on:  "To  say  nothing  of 
roaches,  which  don't  count,  scorpions  and  tarantulas 
that  do,  there's  pinilillas,  rodedores,  niguas,  myllacu- 
uillas,  without  mentioning  ants  and  snakes.  The 
first's  a  sucker,  the  second  bites,  third's  a  borer  and 
carries  his  own  corkscrew  to  insert  himself  in  your 
tender  places;  the  remainder — oh,  well" — he  burst 
into  hearty  laughter  at  David's  grimace  of  repulsion — 
"it  isn't  half  so  bad  as  it  sounds.  If  you  turn  your 
clothing  inside  out  mornings,  and  empty  the  scorpions 
out  of  your  boots,  you  ought  not  to  average  more 
than  a  bite  or  so  a  week." 
6  73 


THE    PLANTER 

Without  insects  the  place  was  not  too  inviting. 
A  small  hut,  it  had  the  usual  hard  mud  floor,  split- 
pole  siding,  palm-leaf  thatch.  A  rickety  table,  with 
dusty  account-books  piled  between  rusty  pens  and  a 
dry  ink-bottle,  an  equally  rickety  bench,  a  three- 
legged  stool,  and  canvas  catre  summed  the  furnish 
ing.  And  while  David  turned  his  disconsolate  re 
gard  upon  these  relics  of  the  late  Meagher,  Ewing 
rattled  along  with  his  merry  chatter. 

"It  isn't  exactly  what  you'd  call  luxury,  is  it? 
But  just  wait  till  we  get  our  first  rubber  on  the  market. 
Teak  floors,  sir,  and  mahogany  furniture  —  nothing 
too  good  for  ours.  And  this  will  look  more  cheerful 
after  your  traps  are  scattered  round  and  we  get  out 
side  some  grub.  Now  hurry,  Andrea,  and  do  your 
darndest.  Afterward,"  he  finished,  as  the  girl  dis 
appeared,  "we'll  walk  around  and  size  up  things." 

When  it  appeared,  the  "darndest"  proved  to  be  a 
chili-con-carne  of  jerked  beef,  lean  and  stringy,  tor 
tillas  and  frijoles,  helped  out  by  a  can  of  tomatoes, 
the  last  of  Meagher's  American  stores.  Hard  enough 
fare  after  his  mother's  delicate  catering,  its  stimulus 
combined  with  Ewing's  gay  clatter  was  yet  sufficient 
to  bring  David  out  of  his  dumps.  Romance,  the 
errant  damsel  who  had  given  him  the  slip  in  the 
jungle,  returned  to  gild  the  squalid  surroundings 
with  her  radiant  effulgence.  He  noted  the  graceful 
curve  of  the  roof  to  the  high  peak,  and  how  nicely 
the  serried  rows  of  brown  palm  ribs  harmonized  with 
the  pale  yellows  and  greens  of  the  siding.  A  sudden 

74 


THE   SHEARLING    FEELS    THE   WIND 

rubbing  of  his  feet  marked  his  endeavor  to  realize 
that  the  floor  was  really  mud.  His  smile  told  of  his 
delight  in  the  fact  that  it  was  really  he,  David  Mann, 
who  was  being  served  by  an  Indian  girl  in  a  tropical 
hut. 

Be  sure  that  Romance  presently  incarnated  in  the 
latter 's  ripe  person.  Leaning  in  the  doorway,  a 
hand  on  a  rounded  hip,  she  talked  while  they  ate, 
drowning  Ewing's  questions  in  liquid  floods  of  Span 
ish,  yet,  for  all  her  volubility,  she  found  time  to  ob 
serve  David.  Openly  and  by  stealth  did  she  study  him 
— for  she  smiled  if  their  eyes  met  without  troubling 
to  drop  her  own — and  when  afterward  he  and  Ewing 
made  a  tour  of  the  buildings,  she  watched  them  from 
the  door  of  her  kitchen ;  her  glance  flowed  after,  touch 
ing,  enwrapping  him  with  its  question. 

So  busy  was  he  picking  up  the  threads  of  his  new 
life  that  David  did  not  see,  nor  would,  in  any  case, 
have  understood:  but  Ewing  did,  and  the  key  to  its 
dark  puzzle  inheres  in  a  remark  made  as  he  paused, 
going  home,  to  look  back  from  the  farther  edge  of 
the  clearing.  David  had  gone  in  to  set  his  things  in 
order,  but  Andrea  sat  in  her  kitchen  door  picking 
at  a  guitar,  and  as  its  melody  throbbed  through  the 
clearing  Ewing  muttered: 

"The  tropics  against  New  England!  My  money 
on  the  tropics!" 


VI 

NEW    ENGLAND    VS.   THE    TROPICS 

NEW  ENGLAND  versus  the  tropics!  How  often 
has  that  battle  been  fought  and  — lost!  For 
just  as  Nature  here  brought  pause  to  the  southward 
creep  of  giant  glaciers  in  the  young  earth's  time,  so 
she  has  established  her  bounds  against  the  invading 
blood  of  the  Northman,  reducing  it  with  heated 
languors,  lusts,  and  passions.  South  of  Twenty, 
English,  French,  German,  Spanish  flux  in  a  common 
irritable  humanity  that  is  distinguishable  only  by 
accent;  even  a  Connecticut  Yankee  yields  up  his 
sterner  individuality  to  the  climate.  All  of  which 
is  merely  preliminary  leading  up  to  the  war  waged 
by  Mr.  David  Mann,  of  Northfield,  Maine,  against 
the  Tropic  of  Cancer. 

Accounts  of  the  first  round  in  that  famous  combat 
are  by  Maria  Guadaloupe,  who,  albeit  there  unwilling 
ly,  was  in  Mr.  David's  corner  and  alone  witnessed  the 
fight.  The  fluctuations  thereof  had,  as  before  prophe 
sied,  caused  the  mandador's  eyebrows  to  retire  within 
the  purlieus  of  his  hair,  wherefore  he  needed  only  to 
raise  hands  to  a  corresponding  altitude  to  express 

76 


NEW  ENGLAND  VS.  THE  TROPICS 

his  unbounded  astonishment  to  Ewing,  who  met  him 
crossing  Verda  a  few  days  later.  His  exclamation, 
"What  is  this  they  have  sent  us  in  place  of  the  Sefior 
Meagher!"  must  also  be  credited  to  wonder  rather 
than  inquiry,  for  without  pause  he  proceeded  with 
the  iconoclasms  of  Mr.  David. 

First  of  the  tale :  he  had  caused  water  to  be  led  by 
a  ditch  into  a  big  trough  by  the  galera  door,  besides 
which  provision  for  morning  ablutions  Maria  had 
standing  orders  to  march  all  hands  to  the  river  for  a 
swim  at  the  close  of  each  day.  Next  he  had  abol 
ished  that  plantation  institution,  the  Sabbath  morn 
ing  task ;  had  lengthened  the  noon  siesta  by  an  hour ; 
finally  had  brought  confusion  into  the  mandador's 
scheme  of  things  by  introducing  piece-work — a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  metros,  lineal,  of  cleared  nionte  to 
constitute  a  day's  work.  Lastly,  he  had  set  up  a 
nursery,  the  women  taking  turns  to  care  for  the  ba 
bies,  and — here  the  mandador's  expression  of  quizzical 
bewilderment  testified  to  the  cunning  nature  of  the 
blow  New  England  had  placed  in  Cancer's  midriff — 
a  new  galera  was  to  be  erected  for  the  women. 

Maria  Guadaloupe's  eyes  bulged  as  he  commented 
on  this  reform.  "For  why,  senor?  Was  there  not 
room  and  to  spare  in  the  men's  galera?"  But  his 
eyebrows  descended  to  participate  in  Ewing's  grin. 

"You  think  the  mujeres  won't  thank  him,  Maria?" 

"The  senor  will  have  his  little  joke."  Sobering, 
he  continued  his  complaint.  "Then  I  am  not  to  beat 
a  man  without  permission — I,  senor,  who  drove  a 

77 


THE   PLANTER 

hundred  men  in  the  Valle  Nacional  while  this  youth 
was  nuzzling  the  breast  of  his  mother.  Carajo!  how 
else  shall  one  get  the  work  out  of  them?" 

"They  seem  to  be  moving  lively  enough,"  Ewing 
said,  after  a  glance  at  the  line. 

"  Si,  senor,  but  for  what  ?  To  make  an  end  and 
gain  back  to  the  galera."  Indicating  a  tall  fellow 
who  had  slashed  a  lane  into  the  monte  ahead  of  his 
fellows,  he  snorted:  "See  Grande,  there.  The  sun 
is  still  three  hours  high  when  he  finishes  yesterday; 
whereafter  he  takes  his  siesta  in  the  shade,  the  pig, 
while  I,  his  mandador,  must  needs  stand  in  the  sun 
and  listen  to  his  snoring.  Is  this  proper,  senor,  for 
one  who,  as  I  say,  has  driven  his  men  in  the  Valle?" 

"Oh,  a  hundred  and  fifty  a  day  isn't  such  a  bad 
average,  Maria.  I  doubt  whether  my  fellows  do  it." 

"But  Grande  would  do  two  hundred,  the  beast, 
could  I  but  lay  the  flat  of  the  machete  again  on  his 
back." 

"He  might — for  one  day,"  Ewing  mu?ed,  as  he 
rode  on  to  the  store  where  he  found  David  immersed 
in  an  inventory  of  chilis  and  needles,  maize,  gay 
cottons,  aguardiente,  rice,  and  other  stock  inherited 
from  Meagher. 

"How  do  I  like  it?"  he  repeated,  wiping  the  per 
spiration  out  of  his  eyes.  "Oh,  it  wouldn't  be  so 
bad  if  it  were  a  bit  cookr.  A  hundred  and  seven 
teen  in  the  shade  this  morning.  Just  fancy!  That 
amount  of  heat  would  kill  every  egg  in  an  incubator. 
If  a  fellow  wanted  to  go  into  the  chicken  business 

78 


NEW  ENGLAND  VS.  THE  TROPICS 

here  he'd  have  to  raise  them  on  ice.  But  what 
tickles  me  most  is  to  see  myself  selling  copas  of  aguar 
diente  and  cigarettes  to  the  work-folks  when  they 
come  in  at  night.  Whiskey  and  cigarettes!  Imag 
ine  the  horror  of  the  folks  at  home!" 

His  grin,  while  a  little  dubious,  showed  how  far 
he  had  fallen  below  those  difficult  standards,  and  he 
laughed  heartily  at  Ewing's  account  of  the  manda- 
dor's  grumblings.  "I  suppose  I  do  jar  his  notions, 
and,  though  he  is  too  polite  to  say  so,  I'm  sure  he 
thinks  the  plantation  is  going  to  the  bow-wows. 
But  I  couldn't  stand  for  things  as  they  were." 

"Andrea?"  Ewing  asked,  smiling  at  his  earnest 
ness. 

"Oh,  we're  getting  along  fine.  She's  teaching  me 
Spanish,  and  puts  on  such  authoritative  airs  over 
the  business  that  I'm  quite  carried  back  to  my  primer 
days  and  live  in  fear  of  a  spanking." 

"'I  love,  thou  lovest,  we  love'?  Of  course  she 
began  with  the  conjugations?" 

If  David's  merry  peal  had  not  been  sufficient  an 
swer,  it  was  corroborated  by  the  girl  herself,  who 
came  in  just  then  for  rice  and  peppers.  Puzzle  min 
gled  with  vexation  in  the  glance  she  turned  on  David's 
unconscious  back  from  the  rear  of  the  store,  telling 
plainly  as  words  that  her  golden  opulence  was  not 
yet  entered  as  an  active  ally  on  the  side  of  the  Tropic 
of  Cancer.  As  she  flowed  with  easy,  flexuous  move 
ment  out  of  the  door,  the  calabash  of  rice  splashed 
with  blood-red  peppers  gracefully  poised  on  her  head, 

79 


THE    PLANTER 

Ewing  broached  the  errand  that  had  brought  him  out 
in  the  heat  of  the  day. 

"  Hertzer 's  Yaquis  came  in  the  other  day  just 
after  we  left,  and  the  canoemen  who  brought  my 
maize  up  from  San  Juan  this  morning  said  there  was 
trouble  over  there  last  night.  They  hadn't  details; 
thought  that  the  velador  —  night  watchman,  you 
know  —  was  killed  and  that  two  Yaquis  got  away. 
I'm  going  over  now,  and  you  had  better  come  along, 
for,  if  it  is  true,  Hertzer  will  want  us  to  watch  the 
trails  to-night." 

The  novel  experiences  of  the  last  few  days  had  left 
David  small  time  for  reflection,  yet  from  between 
events  the  face  of  the  girl  of  the  train  had  peeped 
at  him;  nor  had  he  found  it  possible  to  exclude  her 
from  the  devoirs  he  paid  at  the  shrine  of  disappointed 
love  ere  dropping  asleep  at  night.  Kate's  face  had 
acquired  a  disconcerting  knack  of  merging  in  that  of 
Consuela,  and  his  sudden  brightening  could  not  now 
be  regarded  as  a  tribute  to  the  former  young  lady. 
Too  shy  to  ask  if  the  senora  and  her  daughter  were 
still  at  La  Luna,  he  made  such  a  quick  saddling  that 
one  hour  brought  them  out  of  the  jungle  morasses 
upon  Phelps,  who  was  dismounting  at  his  stable. 

"I  have  just  come  from  there,"  he  told  them. 
"Yes,  Ilarian  was  killed.  We  don't  know  how,  but 
suppose  that  he  either  went  into  the  galera  of  his 
own  accord  after  lock-up,  or  was  enticed  by  a  Yaqui 
woman.  Anyway,  his  screech  roused  the  camp,  and 
when  Hertzer  got  there  he  found  Ilarian  flopping 

80 


NEW  ENGLAND  VS.  THE  TROPICS 

around  on  the  floor  like  a  dying  chicken,  neck  cleanly 
wrung,  face  staring  up  over  his  shoulder.  You  know, 
Hertzer  sleeps  like  a  cat,  so  only  two  escaped,  a  man 
and  a  woman,  and  he's  certain  that  he  winged  one, 
for  a  cry  followed  the  shot  he  sent  after  them  through 
the  fence.  Hope  he  did.  It  would  never  do  to  have 
them  get  away;  the  others  would  be  forever  bolting. 
I  was  out  all  night  on  the  river  trail,  and  have  to 
watch  again  to-night,  so  you  fellows  had  better  trot 
along,  for  I'm  dying  to  sleep.  Say,  Mann,"  he  called 
after  them,  "there's  a  girl  over  there  who  knows  you 
— or  was.  I  understand  they  were  to  leave  to-day. 
If  half  of  what  mamma  says  is  true,  you  appear  to 
have  been  going  it  some.  She's  posting  you  as  Sir 
Galahad — perfect,  brave,  and  true.  Look  out,  old 
man,  or  she'll  be  letting  you  in  for  a  mother-in-law." 

"Some  people  I  met  coming  down,"  David  an 
swered  Ewing's  quizzical  look.  "I  rendered  them  a 
small  service.  The  remainder  is  all  his  fooling." 

But  if  he  was  able  to  turn  off  Ewing  with  this  fair 
show  of  indifference,  his  anxious  colors  instantly  be 
trayed  him  to  Patricia,  who  slid  from  a  hammock 
under  the  veranda  as  they  came  up  the  garden  path 
an  hour  later.  She  smiled  as  he  glanced  quickly  at 
the  screen  door  in  passing,  and  an  alloy  of  disdain 
mingled  with  her  merry  teasing. 

"No,  senor,  she  is  not  there.  Oh,  what  a  frown! 
Is  it  so  bad  as  that?  Now,  if  I  had  only  known — I 
might  have  sent  for  you."  Observing  a  mocking 
pause,  she  went  on:  "Would  you  really  like  to  see 

81 


THE    PLANTER 

her?  Oh,  look  at  the  sun  breaking  through  the 
clouds!  For  that  you  shall.  Come  here."  Leading 
him  to  the  edge  of  the  veranda,  she  pointed  down. 
"Now,  look.  Ola!  Consuela!" 

As  before  noted,  the  bank  dropped  from  the  ve 
randa  a  hundred  feet  into  the  river,  sheering  so  pre 
cipitously  that  one  could  easily  have  dropped  a  stone 
into  a  canoe  that  had  just  cast  off  from  the  landing. 
A  big  dugout  it  was,  one  of  the  slow  fleet  whose 
units  crawl  like  alligators  up  the  warm  streams  of 
the  tropics  to  disgorge  knives,  machetes,  gay  cottons, 
and  other  contents  of  their  wide  stomachs  at  Indian 
villages  and  lonely  plantations.  Along  its  flat  plank 
gunwales  two  Indian  boatmen  marched,  bearing  hard 
on  long  punt-poles,  propelling  the  boat  with  the  spurn 
of  their  feet. 

"They  brought  up  my  corn,"  Ewing  said.  But 
David  heard  neither  that  nor  Patricia's  giggling 
comment  that  la  senora  had  preferred  the  river 
to  a  pacing  mule  out  of  tenderness  for  her  fat.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  he  even  saw  that  lady  waving 
her  pudgy  brown  fists  in  frantic  greeting.  His  eyes 
drew  at  once  to  the  face  that  turned  up,  startled,  at 
Patricia's  call. 

"Como  esta  usted,  senor?" 

How  went  it  with  him  ?  Alas,  Andrea's  lessons  had 
not  touched  on  salutations!  Though  a  smile  flashed 
up  with  the  greeting,  he  could  only  wave  and  watch 
the  clumsy  craft  speed  with  unexpected  and  lament 
able  swiftness  down-stream;  watch  the  face  with  its 

82 


NEW  ENGLAND  VS.  THE  TROPICS 

clouding  mystery  lessen  and  fade  till  only  by  bulk 
could  he  distinguish  mother  from  daughter. 

It  was  not  his  first  experience  in  departures.  But 
whereas  the  pain  of  others  had  been  drowned  in 
noise  of  bells,  hiss  of  steam,  rush  and  roar  of  speed 
ing  trains,  there  was  something  infinitely  lonely  in 
this  silent  drifting.  It  was  like  the  passing  out  of 
a  life.  The  parting  blast  of  the  boatman's  conch-shell 
floated  back  from  the  bend,  lugubriously  mournful. 
And  whether  or  no  these  unusual  conditions  intensified 
his  mood,  he  was  conscious  of,  even  wondered  at,  a 
feeling  of  regret  that  was  out  of  all  proportion  to 
their  acquaintance. 

"I  shall  never  see  her  again,"  he  had  told  himself, 
looking  down  on  her  from  the  train.  Now  disappoint 
ment  caused  him  to  add,  "  I  wish  I  had  not,"  and  was 
itself  wiped  out  the  next  moment  by  chagrin. 

While  he  stood  at  gaze  the  amusement  had  faded 
out  of  Patricia's  smile,  leaving  disdain  in  command 
of  her  mouth,  and  as  the  canoe  now  veered  at  the 
bend,  she  suddenly  exclaimed:  "She's  kissing  her 
hand!  Answer!  Quick,  or  you'll  be  too  late!" 

For  all  he  knew  it  might  very  well  be  a  custom  of 
the  country,  and  she  afforded  him  no  time  to  think. 
"Quick!  Quick!"  Then  as,  following  his  answer, 
the  far  figure  turned  with  a  gesture  that  even  at  the 
distance  was  eloquent  of  anger,  she  burst  out  laugh 
ing;  laughed,  bending  and  throwing  up  her  hands  in 
the  uncontrollable  merriment  of  a  child  or  savage; 
laughed  pointing,  a  slim  finger  at  David,  who  did  cut 

83 


THE    PLANTER 

something  of  a  ridiculous  figure  standing  with  hands 
out-stretched,  as  though  to  drag  the  canoe  from  behind 
the  bend. 

"Oh,  why  did  you  do  that?"  he  flung  round  upon 
her.  "  She  meant  it  for  you." 

But  she  merely  laughed  the  more — laughed  answer 
ing  E  wing's  questions.  "  What  is  it  all  about  ?  You 
should  have  heard  la  senora  tell — how  by  the  fire  of 
his  eye  Sefior  Don  David  did  put  to  flight  a  burly 
rascal,  the  insulter  of  her  daughter.  It  was  equal  to 
the  best  page  of  Don  Quixote.  And  the  pretty 
senorita?  Though  she  frowned  at  mamma's  flowery 
version,  she  plainly  approved  of  Don  David." 

"And  you  must  needs  spoil  their  romance?"  Ew- 
ing  scolded.  "Of  course  we  know  that  these  green 
temples  are  dedicated  to  your  worship."  He  waved 
at  the  jungle.  "But  I  wouldn't  be  so  unblushing  in 
putting  out  my  signs." 

"  I  ?  Jealous  ?"  She  bridled  in  mock  anger.  "  I  ? 
Who  just  gained  him  a  kiss?  I  am  sure  that  Sefior 
Mann  will  acquit  me  of  the  charge?" 

But  David  was  too  sore  to  return  aught  but  a  seri 
ous  face  to  her  smile.  "Was  it  necessary  to  make 
me  act  like  a  cad?" 

A  trifle  nonplussed  by  his  sternness,  she  regarded 
him  uncertainly  for  a  moment,  then  slipping  back 
into  the  hammock,  she  swept  her  skirt  about  her 
ankles  with  a  movement  which,  while  modest  and 
deftly  feminine,  somehow  seemed  to  accentuate  her 
natural  sensuousness.  "Do  you  feel  so  very  badly? 

84 ' 


NEW  ENGLAND  VS.  THE  TROPICS 

Then  I  apologize.  I'm  sorry,  very  sorry,  for  my  fool 
ish  prank.  And,  really,  we  would  have  sent  for  you 
only  that  father  has  had  all  of  the  cabos  away  with 
him  in  the  jungle  ever  since  the  escape." 

Leaning  upon  a  white  elbow,  she  smiled  in  his  face. 
He  could  not  but  see  the  red  lips  parted  in  tender, 
if  affected,  contrition;  but  the  Anglo-Saxon  reserve 
caused  him  to  shrink  and  stiffen  against  her  glowing 
seductions.  "She  asked  for  me?"  he  coldly  inquired, 
and  replied,  when  she  shook  her  head:  "Then  there 
was  no  reason  for  you  to  send." 

While  he  looked  stiffly  out  over  the  river,  she  turned 
arched  brows  on  Ewing,  who  silently  worked  his  lips. 
"Serves  you  right." 

She  made  a  face,  then,  after  a  half-minute's  study 
of  the  straight  back,  she  asked,  in  tones  of  hurt  con 
trition:  "Then  I  am  not  to  be  forgiven?" 

"If  you  know  the  young  lady's  address  you  might 
write  and  ask  it." 

Again  she  looked  at  Ewing,  who  telegraphed: 
"Now,  will  you  be  good?" 

"Watch  me,"  she  breathed.  With  pathetic  seri 
ousness  that  set  Ewing  off  in  a  spluttering  roar,  she 
said:  "I  certainly  shall.  What  would  you  have  me 
say?  That — that  you  intended  it  for  mamma?" 

If  bent  by  training  a  bit  toward  the  solemn,  David 
was  not  devoid  of  humor,  and  now  he  joined  E wing's 
laugh.  "Suppose  we  call  it  off.  None  of  us  are 
likely  to  see  her  again." 

But  if,  with  a  laugh,  the  incident  thus  passed,  it 

85 


THE    PLANTER 

left  neither  he  nor  Patricia  in  quite  the  same  relation. 
He  had  obtained  a  second  glimpse  of  the  savagery 
that  had  manifested  itself  in  the  impalement  of  the 
lantern-fly,  and  the  flash  was  the  more  vivid  with 
himself  in  the  part  of  the  beetle.  On  her  part,  she 
could  not  but  feel  the  small  part  her  beauty  had 
played  in  making  him  overlook  her  prank.  For  the 
first  time  since  their  full  flowering  her  charms  had 
failed  of  their  natural  purpose  in  the  subjugation  of 
man,  and  his  contumacy  excited  her  interest.  Where 
as  she  had  noticed  him  before  only  to  laugh  at  his 
spectacled  sedateness,  she  now  gave  him  stealthy 
attention  up  to  the  moment  that  Hertzer  came  in, 
hot  and  tired,  from  a  fruitless  hunt.  And  if  her  in 
terest  took  more  after  that  of  a  cat  in  a  mouse  than 
the  healthy  curiosity  of  a  maid  toward  a  possible 
husband,  it  was  none  the  less  intense. 


VII 

A    MAN-HUNT,    AND 

THOUGH   Phelps    had    told   them    that    Hertzei 
was  angry  enough  to  murder  the  runaways  out 
of  hand,  disgust  governed  his  action  more  than  pas 
sion  as  he  tossed  his  pistols  and  machete  aside. 

"I'm  sick  of  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  grumbled. 
"Two  days,  and  not  a  man  at  work  in  the  fields. 
I'm  going  to  send  to  New  Orleans  for  a  brace  of  blood 
hounds.  One  pair  would  do  for  all  the  plantations 
on  this  river,  and  we  can  share  the  expense.  No, 
didn't  see  a  sign  of  them;  but  we'll  get  them  sure  to 
night." 

Now  it  had  seemed  to  David  that  a  man  would  be 
more  completely  lost  in  the  labyrinthian  jungle  than 
a  needle  in  the  traditional  hay-stack,  but  they  all 
laughed  when  he  stated  his  doubt.  "You  see," 
Ewing  said,  "the  jungle  is  just  a  tangle  away  from 
the  trails,  a  web  of  bejucas  criss-crossing  thick  brush. 
Their  only  chance  is  to  follow  an  arroyo  down  to  the 
river  and  try  to  steal  a  canoe.  But  as  they  are  sure 
to  know  that  the  canoes  will  be  watched,  they  are 
more  likely  to  try  the  trails." 

87 


THE   PLANTER 

"Of  course  they'll  try  to  work  around  the  planta 
tions,"  Hertzer  added;  "but  they  ean't  make  any 
headway  without  machetes.  It's  a  cinch  that  they 
haven't  more  than  passed  Phelps's  in  the  one  direc 
tion  or  Carruthers'  in  the  other.  This  is  their  second 
day  without  food,  so  if  you  fellows  will  take  care  of 
the  trails  between  your  places,  we  can't  miss  them." 

" How  do  you  like  the  idea  of  a  man-hunt?"  Ewing 
asked. 

The  question  startled  David,  brought  him  excite 
ment  vivid  as  that  which  gripped  him  when,  years  ago, 
he  had  sat  up  and  shivered  from  the  dread  interest 
of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  as  much  as  the  absence  of  the 
blankets  which  hid  his  night-light  from  his  mother's 
careful  eye.  At  first  the  romance  of  it  dazzled  him, 
and  he  listened  eagerly  while  Hertzer  and  Ewing 
discussed  probabilities  in  the  light  of  other  escapes. 
Thinking  of  the  hunt,  he  lost  sight  of  the  hunted  until 
a  remark  from  Patricia  stripped  away  the  golden 
haze  of  romance,  exposing  the  ugly  truth. 

"Will  you  flog  them,  padre?  You  remember,  you 
said  that  if  you  ever  caught  a  runaway  who  was 
strong  enough  to  stand  it,  you  would  make  an  ex 
ample  of  him  that  would  last  forever?" 

"Will  I?"  Hertzer  was  sitting  astride  his  chair, 
and  now  leaning  on  his  crossed  arms  the  position 
emphasized  the  peculiar  forward  angle,  character 
istically  Jewish,  at  which  his  neck  came  out  of  his 
shoulders.  Big  head  lowered  and  thrust  out  added 
a  suggestion  of  thirsty  cunning,  animal  baseness  to 

88 


A   MAN-HUNT,  AND  — 

his  naturally  cold  cruelty.  "Will  I?  This  chap  is 
the  biggest  Indian  I  ever  saw.  The  others  tell  me 
that  he  was  a  chief  up  in  his  own  country,  but  that 
won't  save  his  hide.  Chief  or  no  chief,  he'll  have  to 
go  the  road." 

"A  chief  in  his  own  country?"  Then  it  must  be 
the  great  Yaqui  of  the  train.  David  recalled  the 
conductor's  remark,  "  The  planter  that  gets  him  has 
his  hands  full,"  and  there  came  flashing  into  his  mind 
two  pictures — the  Indian  in  all  his  magnificent  mus 
cularity  side  by  side  with  the  woman  who  had  dropped 
by  the  trail,  wretched  remnant  of  contract  slavery. 
And  to  make  of  the  former  such  a  one  as  the  latter 
was  the  business  to  which  he  had  just  engaged. 

If  he  had  been  asked  just  then  to  join  the  hunt  he 
would  surely  have  declined.  He  intended,  indeed, 
to  take  the  first  opportunity  to  do  so.  But  however 
well  endowed  in  the  matter  of  jaw,  youth  is  ever 
doubtful  of  itself,  and  before  an  opening  offered  the 
thought  of  his  own  fifty  skeletons  rose  to  paralyze 
the  righteous  impulse.  Who  was  he  to  cast  stones? 
A  driver  of  enganchadores  himself,  forsooth,  likely 
to  have  runaways  of  his  own.  Still,  if  he  did  not  act 
on  the  reflection,  it  filled  him  with  distaste.  He 
turned  a  reluctant  ear  to  their  further  plannings. 

Stretching  his  club-like  arms,  Hertzer  rose,  yawn 
ing,  after  half  an  hour's  talk.  "  Now  I  must  turn  in 
and  get  some  sleep.  It's  too  hot  for  you  fellows  to 
start  out  just  now.  Better  take  a  siesta  here  on  the 
veranda,  and  ride  out  to  your  stations  after  an  early 


THE   PLANTER 

supper — or  if  you  feel  like  bed,  the  bunk-house  is 
ready." 

"Too  stuffy,"  Ewing  objected.  "This  is  good 
enough  for  me." 

As  regards  heat  there  was  little  to  choose  between 
house  and  veranda,  for  not  a  breath  of  air  stirred 
beyond  the  brown  shade  of  the  eaves.  So  hot  it  was 
that  a  python  skin  which  was  curing  on  a  board 
crackled  as  it  shrank  and  pulled,  one  by  one,  the  tacks 
along  its  fifteen  feet  of  length.  Stepping  out  to  ex 
amine  it,  David  experienced  a  shock  as  though  he 
had  plunged  into  a  hot  bath.  Sunlight  fierce  and 
yellow  as  flame  beat  on  and  about  him,  drenched  the 
plantation  with  heat  heavy  as  a  fever.  The  street 
between  the  buildings,  paths,  the  road  under  the 
shading  rubber,  burned  like  throbbing  arteries;  save 
the  low  mutterings  of  the  Yaquis  prisoned  in  the 
galera,  no  sound  broke  the  somnolent  silence.  Emi 
nently  suggestive  of  delirium,  those  uneasy  mutter- 
ings  rhymed  with  David's  reflections  and  were  not 
to  be  drowned  by  the  heavy  snoring  which  presently 
issued  from  Hertzer's  room.  After  Ewing,  too,  had 
fallen  asleep  in  his  hammock — Patricia  had  followed 
her  father  inside — he  walked  over  to  the  galera  and 
peeped  through  the  split-pole  siding  at  dark,  desper 
ate  figures  pacing  in  the  black  shadow,  restless,  un 
easy,  as  animals  in  a  cage. 

The  sight  was  not  calculated  to  soothe  his  troubled 
reflections,  and  returning  to  his  chair  on  the  veranda 
he  looked  out  over  the  river  at  the  jungle  slumbering 

90 


A    MAN-HUNT,    AND  — 

in  tremulous  heat.  Other  than  the  occasional  splash 
of  a  fish,  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  his  thought, 
distract  his  attention  from  the  attacks  of  conscience ; 
and  as  that  article  was  of  the  robustious  New  England 
variety,  it  led  him  a  lively  dance  up  to  the  moment 
that  Ewing  woke  up  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Five  o'clock,  bah  Jove,  as  Phelps  would  say." 
After  a  glance  through  the  screened  window,  he  added : 
"And  Rosa  is  setting  the  table  for  supper.  We'd 
better  go  out  and  see  that  the  horses  get  their  maize. 
Likely  as  not  Carmen's  woman  is  already  grinding  it 
for  her  tortillas." 

Returning,  they  passed  the  galera  cook-house,  and 
as  they  came  opposite  the  door  Ewing  nudged  David. 
Inside  two  women  squatted  with  a  dish  of  frijoles 
between  them,  from  which  they  were  eating,  using 
bits  of  tortilla  for  spoons.  The  swart  Zacateca  who 
faced  the  door  was  Hertzer's  head  woman,  but  David 
would  have  passed  without  recognizing  the  other  if  a 
slight  turn  of  the  head  had  not  revealed  Patricia's 
profile.  Having  slid  quietly  out  after  her  siesta,  she 
still  wore  her  kimono,  a  loose  garment  of  a  red  so  brill 
iant  that  it  flamed  in  contrast  with  the  duller  crim 
son  of  the  others'  vestures.  Down  its  fire  her  hair 
flowed  to  the  mud  floor,  sweeping  it,  stirring  the  dust 
as  she  reached  to  the  dish. 

"Gee!"  David  breathed. 

His  wonder  was  not  due  to  her  presence  there. 
She  might  be  on  some  errand.  But  the  squaw  pose, 
animal  habit  of  eating!  Her  dishevellment,  evident 


THE    PLANTER 

ease  in  the  smoke  and  dirt  of  the  hut!  And  he  had 
caught  her  speech,  even  and  rapid,  the  garrulous 
flow  peculiar  to  the  gossip  of  Indian  cronies.  Shed 
ding  manners,  culture,  all  that  she  had  learned  in 
the  convent,  she  had  gone  back  a  thousand  years  to 
her  mother's  people. 

"Astonishing?  Not  a  bit,"  Ewing  said,  as  they 
walked  on.  "Train  them,  educate  them  to  the  limit, 
but  you  can't  smother  the  savage.  You  ought  to 
have  seen  Mrs.  Dutton — white  as  you  or  I,  played 
the  piano,  guitar,  spoke  three  languages  besides  her 
native  Spanish ;  yet  as  soon  as  Dutton  went  off  to  the 
fields  she  would  slip  off  to  the  galera  cook-house  to 
squat  on  her  hams  and  eat  tortillas.  Of  course  she 
was  lonely.  But  our  women  don't  do  it,  nor  the  pure 
bred  Spaniards.  Did  it  because  she  liked  it.  And 
you  ought  to  have  seen  her  face.  Naturally  refined 
in  type,  her  lips  seemed  to  puff  out,  her  eyes  dark 
ened,  and  from  clean  Spanish  she  would  drop  into 
the  broad  Indian  locutions.  You  would  hardly  have 
recognized  the  woman  who  sat  with  us  at  table." 

It  was  equally  difficult  to  recognize  the  vivid  bar 
barian  of  the  cook-house  in  the  demure  girl  who 
poured  their  tea  half  an  hour  later.  While  a  soft 
dress  of  white  toned  her  richness  down  to  maiden 
simplicity,  her  solicitude  for  their  wants  was  perfect 
in  its  quietness;  the  sisters  of  the  Oaxaca  Convent 
could  not  have  improved  upon  it.  Now,  the  most 
stupid  of  men  could  not  but  have  marvelled  at  a 
nature  which  could  thus  put  the  habit  of  civilization 

92 


A    MAN-HUNT,    AND  — 

on  and  off  with  its  outer  garments,  and  David,  who 
was  by  no  means  stupid,  greatly  wondered.  He 
caught  himself  searching  amid  the  inflections  of  her 
speech  for  the  taint  of  her  recent  garrulity,  but  failed 
to  find  it.  In  trying  for  physical  revelations  of  her 
other  savage  self  he  was  more  successful — or  thought 
that  he  was.  Only  that  morning  Ewing  had  told 
him  that  the  eyes  of  snakes  shone  red  in  the  dark, 
and  he  shivered  when,  looking  back  as  they  rode 
away,  he  saw  the  amber  lights  of  her  eyes  resolve 
into  filmy  red,  faintly  luminous  in  the  dusk  of  the 
eaves.  It  was  weird,  uncanny — gave  him  a  feeling 
such  as  he  had  not  experienced  since  the  days  of  his 
childish  belief  in  wizards  and  witches.  He  wondered 
if  she  could  see  in  the  dark. 

Hertzer  had  not  appeared  at  the  meal,  but  he  thrust 
his  head,  all  shaggy  and  tousled,  out  of  the  door  to 
bellow  after  them:  "By-the-way,  Mann,  have  your 
mandador  stand  watch  and  watch  with  your  cabos 
over  the  canoes  to-night." 

"Watch  and  watch'?''  David  commented,  as  they 
rode  on.  "One  would  think  that  he  had  been  a 
sailor." 

"He  was,"  Ewing  answered.  "He  was  born  in 
Trieste,  the  Austrian  port  on  the  Adriatic,  where  his 
father,  a  half-breed  Jew,  ran  a  sailors'  boarding-house. 
Such  places  are  never  quite  what  you  would  call 
forcing-beds  for  virtue,  and  if  one-half  of  what  Hert 
zer  tells  about  it  be  true,  the  place  had  'Fisher's 
Boarding-house,'  or  Kipling's  ballad,  heavily  dis- 

93 


THE    PLANTER 

counted.  From  murder  to  plain  ordinary  crimping, 
everything  went,  but  Hertzer  proved  too  unruly  even 
for  those  generous  limitations,  and  his  father  shang 
haied  him  at  seventeen,  sold  him  for  twenty  dollars 
to  a  vessel  outward  bound  around  Cape  Horn.  He — " 

"His  own  son?"  David  interrupted. 

"His  own  son;  threw  him  in  extra  with  a  batch  of 
drugged  and  drunken  sailors.  *  I  never  blamed  the 
old  chap,  either,'  Hertzer  always  says,  telling  the 
story.  '  It  was  the  only  profit  he  ever  made  on  me, 
and  it  takes  a  man  of  parts  to  sell  the  prunings  of 
his  family  tree.' ' 

"But  his  own  son?"  David  repeated. 

Laughing  at  his  shocked  surprise,  Ewing  went  on: 
"Anyway,  he  didn't  prove  much  of  a  bargain.  Both 
skipper  and  mate  were  of  the  old  truculent  school, 
but  whereas  the  vessel  was  known  previously  for  a 
'hell-ship,'  the  brimstone  began  to  bubble  forward 
as  well  as  aft  when  Hertzer  regained  his  senses.  The 
first  day  out  he  struck  the  mate,  and  though  never 
a  day  passed  thereafter  without  his  being  beaten  to  a 
blue  jelly  by  one  or  other  tyrant,  he  fought  back 
like  a  cornered  wharf-rat,  kicked,  bit,  chewed,  swal 
lowing  punishment  like  candy.  And  he  was  danger 
ous.  Once  he  dropped  a  marlinspike  from  aloft  and 
cracked  the  skipper's  hard  pate.  His  knife  whizzed 
from  black  darkness  one  night  and  stuck  in  the  cabin 
door  close  to  the  mate's  ear.  After  that  he  supped 
on  blows — breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea.  Indeed,  from 
Cape  Verde  to  Rio  Janeiro  you  could  have  traced  the 

94 


A    MAN-HUNT,    AND  — 

ship  by  the  continuous  sound  of  cries  and  curses. 
Yet  when  the  brace  of  bullies  were  stricken  with  yel 
low-fever,  and  the  crew  put  the  vessel  in  shore  and  de 
serted  en  masse,  he  stayed  and  nursed  them  through  it. 

"Why?  God  knows.  Hadn't  got  his  bellyful  of 
fighting,  I  suppose.  Says  himself  that  he  intended 
to  kill  them,  and  hated  to  have  Yellow  Jack  beat 
him  to  the  job.  Anyway,  if  he  was  looking  for  fight 
ing,  he  found  it  in  plenty,  for  they  made  him  second 
mate  after  they  had  worked  the  vessel  back  to  Rio 
and  had  shipped  a  crew  from  the  government  jail. 

"Think  of  it!  That  the  men  were  not  to  be  al 
lowed  to  land  on  South  American  soil  was  the  one 
stipulation  of  the  Brazilian  authorities,  and  fancy 
the  two  burly  ruffians  with  that  tigerish  lad  driving 
that  gallows  crew  of  thieves,  bandits,  assassins — lands 
men  all — driving  them,  too,  with  blows  and  curses. 
For  pure  desperation  it  beats  the  buccaneers.  No  one 
knows  how  many  of  them  they  killed,  nor  does  it 
matter;  they  only  robbed  the  gallows.  The  wonder 
is  that  they  worked  the  vessel  around  the  Horn  to 
Valparaiso  and  back  to  New  Orleans,  where  both 
Hertzer  and  the  remnant  of  rascals  unloaded  them 
selves  upon  poor  old  Uncle  Sam. 

"The  next  year  he  spent  in  the  States,  engaging  in 
occupations  that  ran  from  bar-tending  in  New  Or 
leans  to  the  smuggling  of  opium  and  Chinamen  into 
San  Francisco.  He  even  ranched  out  West,  but  the 
plains  could  not  hold  him.  At  twenty-five  he  was 
back  in  the  free-and-easy  tropics  running  trading 

95 


THE   PLANTER 

ventures  up  the  rivers  from  the  Gulf,  from  which  he 
stepped  naturally  into  the  rubber  business  ten  years 
ago.  In  that  time  he  has  been  with  three  different 
companies;  La  Luna's  the  fourth.  And — there's  no 
scandal  in  this,  Mann,  the  facts  are  known  to  the 
country — between  cheating  his  enganchars  and  the 
pickings  of  the  wrecked  companies,  he's  pretty  well 
off — so  well  off  that  he'll  probably  buy  up  La  Luna 
if  she  goes  the  way  of  the  others." 

David,  who  was  riding  ahead,  checked  his  horse. 
"You  don't  mean  to  say  that — he  cheats  those  poor 
wretches?" 

"Don't  I?  Well,  you  remember  the  batch  that 
you  met  coming  in?  I  was  there  when  he  paid  off. 
Not  a  man  received  more  than  twenty  per  cent,  of 
his  dues.  Do  you  know  what  the  beggar  is  doing  at 
the  present  moment?  Sends  out  the  others  whose 
time  is  nearly  expired  to  work  by  themselves  in  the 
field.  Only  this  morning  he  was  complaining  to  me 
that  they  wouldn't  run  away." 

"And  Phelps?"  David  asked.     "Does  he—?" 

Ewing  nodded.  "It's  quite  general.  Enganchars 
are  fair  game  for  everybody." 

"And— you?" 

Ewing  laughed  a  little  shamefacedly.  "Well,  you 
see,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  brought  my  wife  down 
with  me,  and  her  strict  notions  keep  me  from  living 
up  to  my  opportunities.  We'll  never  be  rich.  By-the- 
way,  she  charged  me  to  invite  you  to  dinner  next  Sun 
day.  You  must  come,  for  a  fresh  face  is  a  godsend." 

96 


A    MAN-HUNT,    AND  — 

Whether  or  no  he  intended  to  change  the  subject, 
David  did  not  renew  his  questions,  and  they  rode  on 
in  silence  up  to  the  moment  they  met  Phelps  coming 
out  from  his  own  place.  What  with  two  Colt's  forty- 
fives,  a  machete,  and  the  Winchester  carbine  that 
swung  at  his  saddle-bow,  the  Englishman  was  an 
arsenal  in  his  own  person,  and  he  laughed,  patting 
the  carbine  at  Ewing's  joke. 

"  Comes  handy — either  to  pot  jaguars  or  for  a  shot 
at  a  running  man."  Then,  noting  David's  weapon 
less  condition,  he  exclaimed:  "Mann,  where  are  your 
guns?  You  haven't  any?  Good  Lord,  haven't  you 
yet  learned  the  first  of  the  tropic  commandments, 
4  Thou  shalt  not  leave  thy  house  unless  well  heeled '  ? 
To  say  nothing  of  wild  animals,  or  a  volunteer  Indian 
with  a  knife,  there's  always  the  off  chance  of  a  mutiny 
among  your  enganchars.  Here,  take  this  of  mine! 
And  if  his  nibs  falls  to  you  and  fails  to  throw  up  his 
hands,  shoot  as  quick  as  the  Lord  will  let  you." 

With  this  bit  of  pleasant  advice,  Phelps  left  them, 
but  paused  at  fifty  yards  and  called  Ewing  back  to 
whisper.  "Look  at  him!  Handles  it  like  a  music- 
roll;  and  he's  going  after  a  man  who  cracks  necks 
like  peanuts.  For  Heaven's  sake,  Frank,  show  him 
the  business  end  and  have  him  let  it  off." 

"It  does  look  like  a  cannon  —  on  him,"  Ewing 
chuckled. 

It  felt  so  to  David  at  first,  but  he  soon  grew  used  to 
its  thumpings,  and  uneasy  tolerance  presently  merged 
in  swollen  pride  when,  under  Ewing's  direction,  he 

97 


THE   PLANTER 

succeeded  in  hitting  a  tree  at  a  dozen  yards.  It  was 
a  large  tree,  and  truth  compels  the  statement  that 
he  did  not  repeat  the  feat,  but  he  made  a  good  deal 
of  noise,  and  in  the  excitement  attending  the  prac 
tice,  he  forgot  its  object,  and  had  cess  of  the  attacks 
of  conscience  until  they  reined  in  on  the  farther  bank 
of  an  arroyo  at  dusk. 

It  was  situated  about  half-way  between  Phelps's 
place  and  Verda,  and  it  did  not  require  a  second 
glance  to  explain  Ewing's  meaning.  "This  place  is 
as  good  as  any."  For  everywhere  the  bejuca  spread 
its  spider  web,  tangling  trees,  palms,  brush  in  a  woven 
mat,  beneath  which  the  arroyo  ran  as  through  a  tunnel. 

Indicating  a  saber  whose  buttressing  rocks  formed 
a  giant  arm-chair,  he  continued:  "  Whether  they  come 
down  this  arroyo,  or  one  nearer  to  Phelps,  they  must 
pass  this  way,  so  you  had  better  camp  here,  close  to 
the  trail,  for  naked  feet  make  little  noise.  Of  course, 
it  is  possible  that  they  have  worked  around  Verda, 
in  which  case  they'll  fall  to  me.  But  if  you  do  get 
them,  remember — no  fooling.  Shove  your  gun  into 
the  man's  stomach,  and  if  he  moves  let  drive.  A 
shot  will  bring  me  or  Phelps.  We'll  hear  all  right, 
for  sound  travels  a  dickens  of  a  distance  at  night. 
Your  horse  would  only  give  you  away,  so  I'll  take 
him  along  and  leave  him  with  mine  at  your  stable, 
then  walk  on  to  my  station.  Pity  you  couldn't  have 
Guadaloupe  for  company,  but  he'll  have  to  watch 
the  canoes.  Anyway,  it  wouldn't  be  much  gain,  for 
these  Indians  are  nervous  at  night;  he'd  keep  you 

98 


A    MAN-HUNT,    AND  — 

on  edge  all  the  time.  And  really  there's  nothing  to 
be  afraid  of.  Jaguars  seldom  attack  a  man,  and  other 
animals  don't  count."  Despite  this  cheery  assurance, 
he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  rode  on  through  the 
falling  shadows:  "Hope  he  believes  it.  It's  mighty 
nervous  business,  and  I  don't  half  like  it." 

Though  his  pride  would  not  have  admitted  the 
fact,  neither  did  David,  yet  he  kept  his  nervousness 
well  in  hand,  and  turned  a  composed  face  to  the 
dusk  settling  like  a  mist  among  the  trees.  The  hour 
brought  with  it  none  of  the  cool  peace  of  a  Northern 
twilight.  Sickly  breath  of  luxurious  vegetation  op 
pressed  the  hot  air,  and  there  was  at  first  much  noise 
— booming  of  monkeys,  chatter  of  parrots,  clamor 
of  macaws.  Through  a  siren  whistling  of  beetles, 
shrill,  insistent,  torturing  to  the  ear,  came  a  cry, 
strident  though  muffled,  and  instinct  thrilled  to  the 
voice  of  a  tiger.  But  silence  came  with  darkness, 
mirk  night  that  fell  hot  and  stifling  as  a  black  fever, 
and  he  was  left  staring  up  at  great  palm-fronds  which 
hung  like  curved  scimitars  in  a  web  of  bejucas  against 
the  sky. 

Then  it  was  that  conscience  spoke  with  a  still 
small  voice  upon  the  hush,  bringing  a  recurrence  of 
doubt.  On  night's  curtain  the  figure  of  the  Yaqui 
flashed  out;  then,  by  association  of  ideas,  he  saw  him 
self  peering  from  the  car  door  at  Consuela  and  the 
starer,  from  the  clash  of  which  pictures  an  idea  flew 
like  a  vivid  spark — because  the  Yaqui  had  resented 
a  smilar  or  worse  insult  to  a  woman  of  his  tribe  he, 

99 


THE   PLANTER 

David  Mann,  descendant  of  abolitionist  fathers,  was 
lying  in  wait  to  capture  and  return  him  to  captiv 
ities  that  transcended  the  iniquities  of  Southern 
slavery! 

Be  sure  the  thought  brought  him  upright  on  his 
feet.  "I  won't!  I  won't  do  it!"  But  the  following 
reflection  relaxed  his  strung  muscles.  "If  Hertzer's 
man  is  to  go  free,  why  not  the  poor  devils  on  my  own 
plantation?" 

Just  then  he  was  minded  to  go  the  lengths  of  his 
logic.  He  saw  himself  in  a  succeeding  exaltation 
returning  home  to  cast  their  price  in  Mr.  Osgood's 
face.  Ensued,  however,  the  chilly  thought:  "He 
would  engage  others  to  serve  under  a  harder  master." 

He  sat  down  again. 

But  not  in  weakness.  For  as  he  sat  thinking  the 
stern  cultures  of  his  youth  brought  forth  fruit,  and  he 
saw  his  duty  plain  toward  the  miserable  creatures 
who  had  fallen  into  his  wardship.  But  the  Yaqui? 
Presently,  however,  he  arrived  at  even  this  difficult 
solution — he  would  march  him  to  Verda  and  hold 
him  till  Hertzer  promised  decent  treatment. 

The  question  of  his  own  procedure  thus  determined, 
he  had  time  to  speculate  on  the  probable  action  of 
the  other  party  to  the  contract,  and  the  gooseflesh 
rose  all  over  his  body  as  he  remembered  Phelps's 
description  of  the  velador's  death.  "Hertzer  found 
him  flopping  around  the  galera  floor,  neck  cleanly 
wrung,  face  staring  up  over  his  shoulder."  And 
somewhere  in  the  jungle,  perhaps  just  across  the 

TOO 


A   MAN-HUNT,  AND— 

arroyo,  the  Yaqui  was  moving  with  the  soft  stealth 
of  naked  feet! 

Bursting  suddenly  upon  him,  the  thought  brought 
quick  panic,  an  impulse  to  rise  and  run,  so  urgent, 
strong,  that  he  must  have  obeyed  only  that  he  felt 
if  he  once  yielded  pursuing  terror  would  drive  him 
insane.  He  shrank,  instead,  within  the  buttressing 
roots,  clutched  Phelps's  pistol,  and  waited  until  pride 
again  commanded  his  fears. 

"  He's  only  a  man,  unarmed  at  that,"  he  murmured, 
and  within  five  minutes  his  thought  had  returned  to 
Consuela  and  the  events  of  the  morning. 

With  her  he  floated  down  the  river,  following  its 
vast  sinuosities  by  gleaming  playas  where  huge  sau- 
rians  took  their  torrid  siestas,  always  with  the  broid- 
ered  screen  of  the  jungle  on  either  hand.  And  as 
lately  he  had  always  slid  from  thoughts  of  her  into 
his  sleep,  habit  presently  asserted  itself.  He  yawned, 
nodded,  sat  up  blinking  bravely,  then  drowsed,  nod 
ded  again,  and  so  slipped  away. 

And  while  he  slept  there  came  to  pass  things 
stranger  even  than  dreams.  Soft  rustlings,  low 
gruntings  impinged  on  the  silence,  and  a  drove  of 
coons  brushed  his  feet  going  down  to  the  water. 
Later  a  tapir  swung  leisurely  along  and  stopped  to 
browse  around  his  tree,  and  other  of  the  jungle  chil 
dren  came  curiously  to  see.  Red-hot  pinheads  mark 
ed  the  eyes  of  a  snake,  bluish  luminosities  those  of  a 
deer;  green  slits  in  the  night  denoted  the  long-tooths. 
In  silent  procession  they  came,  looked,  then  hopped, 

101 


THE    PLANTER 

wriggled,  or  ran  away  as  a  pallor,  mist  of  light,  palpi 
tated  through  the  forest.  Under  its  pale  effulgence 
trees  again  stood  out,  black  skeletons  against  the 
brightening  sky;  then  all  of  a  sudden  a  big  copper 
moon  sailed  up  and  peeped  at  David  over  the  edge  of 
the  forest.  As  though  not  satisfied  with  such  cursory 
inspection,  she  pursued  her  course  up  and  on,  to  drop, 
an  hour  later,  a  flood  of  light  upon  him  through  a  gap 
in  the  leafy  ceiling,  and  just  then  a  wild  pig  raised  its 
head  from  the  water  and  scurried,  grunting,  away. 

Had  David  been  awake  he  also  might  have  heard 
the  low  moaning  that  had  startled  the  beast,  would 
have  seen  a  mass  deepen  in  the  shadow  across  the 
arroyo  ere  it  resolved  in  the  light  of  moonlit  waters 
into  a  man  bearing  a  burden.  He  could  not  have 
missed  the  whisper  that  stilled  the  moaning,  the 
splash  of  water  falling  from  a  leaf  twisted  into  a  cup, 
labored  breathing  as  the  figure  toiled  with  its  burden 
up  the  hither  bank.  But  he  slept,  slept  on  when, 
after  stilling  the  moaning  that  had  begun  again,  a 
man  glared  at  him  from  the  deep  shadow  on  the  crest 
of  the  bank. 

For  the  space  of  three  breaths  he  stood ;  then  a  dark 
convulsion  marked  his  attempt  to  lay  his  burden 
down.  But  a  moan  followed — a  low  cry  that  pierced 
David's  sleep  and  caused  him  to  stir.  But  when,  a 
minute  later,  he  sat  up  and  looked  around,  he  saw 
only  the  lace  of  bejucas  across  the  sky,  a  pale  quiver 
ing  where  the  moonlit  waters  emerged  from  the  leafy 
tunnel. 

102 


VIII 

THE    MAN 

SO  bright  was  the  moonlight  that  David  mistook 
it  at  first  for  the  dawn  which  issued  hours  later 
like  a  warm  sigh  from  the  palpitant  east.  Ashamed 
of  his  faithless  watch,  he  shook  off  sleep  and  trained 
his  ear  thereafter  to  every  sound,  but  only  the  mut- 
terings  of  an  owl  disturbed  the  early  hours. 

Leaving  his  post  at  daylight,  he  came  out  on  the 
Verda  clearing  just  as  the  sun  fired  its  yellow  roofs. 
It  was  the  best  hour  of  the  day,  and  the  cool  peace 
of  the  morning  conspired  with  relief  from  the  night's 
strain  to  stimulate  his  spirits.  The  whistle  that 
timed  his  brisk  walk  also  celebrated  the  fact  that  the 
fugitives  were  still  at  large.  He  hoped  that  they 
might  get  away,  and,  under  stimulation  of  the  hot 
coffee  and  tortillas  which  Andrea  had  in  waiting, 
hope  waxed  rosier,  grew  and  grew  till  it  had  attained 
almost  to  certainty  when,  at  the  close  of  the  meal, 
Hertzer,  with  Phelps  and  Carmen,  clattered  up  to 
the  door. 

He  stood  in  the  doorway,  a  picture  of  blank  sur 
prise,  staring  at  Phelps,  who  burst  out:  "Where  are 

103 


THE   PLANTER 

they?     We   didn't   hear  your  shots.     You  see,  the 
night  wind  set  from  us  to  you." 

"Why—"  David  began. 

But  Phelps  ran  on:  "Carmen  picked  up  their 
tracks  at  the  first  arroyo  beyond  my  place  shortly 
after  daybreak,  and  we  followed  them  on  to  your 
tree.  After  that  we  just  galloped  on,  for  we  knew 
that  you  had  got  them.  Where's  Ewing?  Did  you 
do  it  single-handed?" 

David  continued  his  blank  stare  under  the  volley 
of  questions.  "But  —  I  didn't — "  he  began  again; 
then,  remembering  his  sleep,  he  stopped. 

It  was  awkward.  While  Phelps  was  talking  Hertzer 
looked  on  with  thirsty  eagerness,  but  now  his  ex 
pression  suddenly  reverted  to  its  natural  harsh  sus 
picion.  The  Englishman  seemed  surprised.  Even 
the  Zacateco's  brown  glance  betrayed  his  knowledge 
that  something  was  wrong,  and,  to  add  to  David's 
embarrassment,  Andrea  was  standing  in  her  kitchen 
doorway.  Yet  he  blurted  the  difficult  truth. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I'm  not  used  to  night- watching  and  I 
fell  asleep.  If  they  passed  me  it  must  have  been  then." 

"The  hell  you  did!"  Hertzer  exploded,  after  a 
moment's  consternation.  "G — !"  he  began,  then 
paused,  biting  his  lips.  But  the  check  merely  dammed 
his  passion,  for  the  next  instant  he  broke  out  in  vio 
lent  profanity,  streaming  oaths  in  English,  Spanish, 
German.  Face  writhing,  convulsed  with  angry  dis 
appointment,  he  was,  however,  less  ugly  in  his  frank 
rage  than  Phelps  in  his  cold  innuendo. 

104 


-THE   MAN 

"Oh,  come!  If  Mann  felt  that  way  he  had  a  right 
to  slip  off  to  his  bed." 

It  was  said  in  his  superior  way;  but  even  his  pe 
dantic  assurance  shrivelled  as  David  glanced  from 
him  to  Carmen.  "You  are  judging  me  by  your  own 
experience." 

Now,  though  the  accident  of  neighborship  threw 
them  a  good  deal  together,  Hertzer  privately  held 
the  Englishman  with  his  dogmatic  precision  in  the 
contempt  natural  to  his  brutal  nature.  Also  he  had 
the  primitive  sense  of  humor  which  responds  most 
quickly  to  some  one's  hurt.  Wherefore  the  allusion 
to  Phelps's  unpleasant  contretemps  with  the  Zacateco 
was  bound  to  draw  his  laugh. 

"Poked  you  in  the  ribs  that  time,"  he  grinned. 
Once  more  his  cold  self,  he  went  on:  "Well,  the  only 
thing  left  is  to  ride  on  and  see  if  they  got  by 
Ewing.  Come  along — if  you  feel  sufficiently  rested. 
Take  Carmen's  horse.  He  can  saddle  yours  and  fol 
low." 

"Mira,  sefior!  Mira!  Mira!"  Even  as  he  turned 
to  give  the  order  in  Spanish,  the  Zacateco  pointed 
eagerly  at  hovering  specks  above  the  forest. 

At  his  cry  Andrea  stepped  out  and  stood  gazing 
from  under  her  hand.  Phelps  and  Hertzer  both  were 
staring,  and  as  David  allowed  his  puzzled  glance  to 
wander  from  one  to  another,  explanation  presented 
itself.  Since  sunrise  a  solitary  vulture  had  held  vigil 
on  the  peak  of  the  galera,  and  now  spreading  heavy 
wings  he  sailed  away  leading  the  leaden  tribe  that,  a 

105 


THE    PLANTER 

moment  before,  had  been  hopping  among  the  build 
ings. 

"He's  right!"  Hertzer  exclaimed,  with  an  oath. 
"There's  carrion  over  yonder,  and  as  the  birds  don't 
light  it's  a  cinch  that  some  one  is  keeping  them  away." 
Face  quivering  like  molten  metal,  piercing  eyes  search 
ing  the  distant  blue,  he  ran  on:  "It's  them,  sure. 
The  one  I  shot  is  dead — or  dying;  t'other's  watching. 
Let  me  see — that  will  be  about  half-way  between 
here  and  your  place,  Phelps,  and  about  three  miles 
back  from  the  trail.  The  moon  was  up  when  you 
woke,  Mann  ?  Directly  above  ?  Then  they  saw  you 
and  turned  into  the  arroyo.  That  '11  be  our  road. 
Here!  Jump  on  Carmen's  horse!  Come  on!" 

With  a  word  to  the  Indian  he  rowelled  his  beast 
and  shot  off  at  a  gallop,  setting  a  pace  across  the 
plantation  and  through  the  dry  jungle  beyond  that 
tried  out  David's  newly  acquired  horsemanship. 
Jolted,  joggled,  switched  by  trailing  branches,  he 
somehow  managed  to  keep  his  saddle  until  the  first 
of  the  morasses  obliged  slower  going.  With  his  re 
turning  breath  came  wonder  at  the  impulse  which 
had  caused  him  to  mount  and  follow,  and  he  was  still 
wondering  when  Carmen,  who  overtook  them  at 
the  tree,  led  down  the  bank  into  the  arroyo1  s  green 
tunnel. 

As  aforesaid,  the  stream  ran  under  rather  than 
through  the  jungle,  winding  beneath  vegetation  so 
dense  that  light  filtered  in  as  a  thick  green  haze. 
Rising  twice  the  height  of  a  man  above  them,  the 

1 06 


—  THE    MAN 

banks  shut  off  the  little  air  that  moved  above,  so 
they  moved  in  an  atmosphere  still  and  close,  heavy 
as  steam.  At  every  yard  the  bejuca  dropped  its 
loops  and  snares  to  the  water,  forcing  them  to  bend 
double  as  they  slipped  and  tripped  over  water-worn 
bowlders.  Alternating  with  mud,  quicksands  made 
it  still  heavier  labor.  After  five  minutes  of  it  David's 
heart  beat  like  a  pile-driver  against  his  ribs,  while 
Phelps  stooped  every  few  yards  to  wash  the  acrid 
sweat  out  of  his  eyes.  Both  gasped  their  relief  when 
Carmen  would  pause  over  the  tracks  of  a  pig  or  pugs 
of  a  tiger;  but  Hertzer,  whose  iron  frame  seemed  "to 
defy  fatigue,  motioned  him  always  forward,  nor  per 
mitted  a  rest  until  his  keen  eye  picked  a  footprint 
from  the  mud  of  the  bank  after  an  hour  of  slavish  toil. 
Its  evidence  was  hardly  required,  for  a  beating  of 
wings,  swish  and  swoop  of  vultures,  had  already  in 
formed  them  of  the  closeness  of  their  quarry.  Con 
firming  Hertzer's  judgment,  that  rhythmic  pulsing 
killed  nascent  hope  in  David.  Oppressed  by  the 
loom  of  trouble,  he  watched  Carmen  worming  up 
the  bank,  yet  for  all  his  heaviness  could  not  but 
thrill  to  a  memory  of  a  cat  crawling  upon  a  bird  in 
his  mother's  garden.  AVhen,  after  a  peep  over  the 
crest,  Carmen  turned  to  beckon  them  forward,  he 
saw  also  the  same  savage  exultance  that  had  blazed 
in  the  beast's  green  eyes.  With  it  mingled  surprise, 
a  touch  of  the  wonder  which  he  experienced  himself 
a  moment  later;  the  wonder,  but  none  of  the  pity 
that  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes. 

107 


THE    PLANTER 

Wiping  them  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  he  looked 
again.  From  the  bank  the  land  sloped  to  a  shallow 
dell  heavily  shaded  by  tall  timber,  so  blackly  shad 
owed,  indeed,  that  it  was  devoid  of  underbrush  save 
where  a  stream  of  light  broke  down  through  the 
naked  arms  of  a  saber.  Killed  by  lightning-stroke, 
the  tree  now  bore,  in  lieu  of  leaves,  a  grisly  crop  of 
vultures.  Hundreds  crowded  the  limbs,  branches, 
the  very  twigs.  David  had  not  imagined  that  the 
whole  land  held  so  many  of  the  carrion  creatures  as 
perched  on  that  single  tree,  yet  other  scores  dark 
ened  the  ground,  and  through  the  break  in  the  forest 
roof  he  saw  a  winged  cloud  moving  in  swirls  and 
eddies.  Save  when  disturbed  by  some  abrupt  move 
ment  of  the  man  who  worked  below,  the  vultures  on 
the  tree  sat  still  and  silent.  Then  the  craning  of 
livid  necks,  flutter  of  coffin  plumage,  was  singularly 
like  the  movement  of  wind  through  the  plumes  of  a 
hearse.  Their  dead  eyes  watched  as  he  dug  in  the 
soft  mould  with  a  staff  and  his  hands. 

Rifting  down  through  the  saber,  the  light  struck 
full  upon  him  so  that  he  stood  out  in  the  shadowy 
dell  like  a  figure  under  a  slant  of  light  in  some  dim 
cathedral.  Though  Hertzer's  description  had  con 
vinced  David  of  the  fugitive's  identity  with  his  great 
Yaqui  of  the  train,  big  men  had  not  been  so  rare 
among  the  prisoners.  But  it  did  not  require  a  second 
look  to  recognize  the  deep  torso,  lithe  muscularity 
which  conveyed  the  impression  of  liquid  force.  Turn 
ing  to  strike  at  a  bird  that  had  pecked  at  a  huddle  of 

108 


—  THE    MAN 

rags  which  lay  to  one  side,  he  revealed  the  eagle  pro 
file,  sombre  eyes,  stern  mouth.  Sleeplessness,  star 
vation,  the  heavy  travail  with  his  burden — none  of 
these  had  been  able  t'j  detract  from  the  stoical  dig 
nity  which  wrapped  him  like  a  mantle. 

After  driving  away  the  vultures  he  leaned  for  a 
while  on  his  staff  looking  down  on  the  dead  woman; 
leaned  and  looked  unconscious  of  alien  observation. 
There  was  something  leonine  in  his  pose;  yet  for  all 
his  stern  composure  sadness  radiated  from  him;  grief, 
keener,  more  poignant,  than  the  wildest  manifesta 
tions  of  sorrow.  So  standing,  while  heavy  wings  pulsed 
through  the  heated  silence,  his  ineffable  loneliness 
stabbed  David  with  so  sharp  a  pain  that  he  turned 
involuntarily  to  Phelps. 

The  Englishman,  too,  seemed  affected.  His  lips 
even  formed  the  soundless  phrase,  "  Poor  devil !"  But 
the  accompanying  shake  of  the  head  robbed  his  sym 
pathy,  testifying  to  his  continued  adherence  to  the 
standards  of  philosophical  inevitability  as  laid  down 
by  Mr.  Kidd. 

Turning  at  a  rustle  on  his  left,  he  saw  Hertzer  poised 
on  ringers  and  toes  like  a  runner  at  scratch.  The 
attitude  accentuated  the  peculiar  angle  of  his  neck, 
his  enormous  animality.  Head  lowered  and  slightly 
swinging,  eyes  blazing  under  shaggy  brows,  his  bear- 
like  body  hung  for  a  moment  in  balance  ere  he 
launched  after  Carmen  over  the  bank.  Springing 
up  to  follow,  David  tripped  on  a  bejuca  and  rolled 
back  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  bank,  and  when  he 

109 


THE    PLANTER 

scrambled  again  to  the  top  he  saw  Carmen  leaping 
his  last  yards  under  a  flapping  cloud. 

Paralyzed  by  a  sick  excitement,  he  stood  look 
ing  on. 

After  yielding  a  start  in  tribute  to  surprise,  the 
Yaqui  had  straightened,  gripping  hard  on  his  staff, 
and  through  his  chaos  of  feeling  David  sensed  danger 
in  that  quiet  waiting.  Until  Carmen  was  almost 
upon  him  he  moved  no  muscle — quiet  that  deceived 
even  the  Zacateco.  Thinking,  perhaps,  that  the  man 
was  about  to  yield,  he  paused,  machete  raised — 
paused  to  his  sorrow,  for,  with  a  movement  subtle 
as  that  of  a  striking  snake,  the  heavy  staff  rose  and 
fell.  So  swift  was  the  blow  that  David's  eye  could 
not  follow.  But  he  heard  a  sharp  tinkle,  caught  the 
flash  as  the  machete  flew  in  pieces.  Simultaneously 
the  Yaqui 's  hands  shot  out,  took  Carmen  by  the  head 
as  a  player  catches  a  ball,  and  without  arrest  of  his 
momentum  sent  him  sprawling,  with  only  a  vicious 
wrench  to  account  for  his  hideous  screech. 

In  eighty  yards  the  Indian  had  gained  full  twenty 
on  Phelps  and  Hertzer,  but  quick  as  was  his  disposal, 
only  a  fraction  of  time  intervened  between  Hertzer's 
bull  rush.  The  Yaqui  had  stooped  instantly  for  his 
staff,  but  to  David,  looking  on,  it  seemed  that  nothing 
could  save  him  from  Hertzer's  blow.  But  the  stoop 
was  merely  a  feint.  Springing  from  his  crouch,  he 
came  up  inside  the  other's  guard,  arms  wreathed 
about  his  waist.  Even  at  that  distance  David  could 
see  biceps  and  flexors  writhing  under  the  brown  skin, 

no 


—THE   MAN 

constricting  like  pythons  into  Hertzer's  bulk.  A  sud 
den  twist — which  foiled  Phelps,  who  was  now  dan 
cing  round  them  for  a  chance  to  put  in  a  blow — 
showed  him  Hertzer's  face  all  livid,  mouth  horribly 
gaped,  eyes  starting  yet  furious  in  their  agony.  Dur 
ing  the  seconds  they  swayed  and  swung  his  huge 
fists  never  ceased  raining  blows  on  the  Yaqui's  back 
— blows  that  resounded  through  the  glade  like  the 
beating  of  a  drum.  But  even  his  enormous  strength, 
ferocious  masculinity,  was  unequal  to  the  crushing 
of  his  vitals,  and  just  as  Phelps's  chance  came  he  was 
lifted  and  thrown  violently  upon  his  head. 

If  the  Englishman  had  used  the  edge,  the  business 
had  ended  there  and  then ;  but  in  obedience  to  Hert 
zer's  previous  instructions  he  struck  with  the  flat, 
and,  glancing,  the  blow  fell  harmlessly  upon  the 
shoulder.  His  hoarse  cry  as  he  went  down  with 
the  Yaqui's  hands  at  his  throat  broke  up  David's 
coma.  All  had  occurred  in  a  quarter-minute,  and 
now  pulling  his  pistol  he  ran  shouting  and  firing,  in 
different  to  the  risk  of  hitting  Phelps — ran  thrilling 
with  horror,  conscious  only  of  the  brown  hands  fum 
bling  the  Englishman's  throat.  Flying  wide,  his  bul 
lets  could  never  have  saved  him.  Yet  they  served  by 
attracting  the  Yaqui's  attention — caused  him  to  look 
up  just  as  he  had  set  himself  for  a  wrench,  a  fleeting 
glance  which  still  afforded  time  for  Hertzer  to  seize 
his  machete  and  topple  him  over  with  a  heavy  blow 
delivered  from  his  knees. 

"Oh,  my  God!"  Springing  up,  Phelps  clutched 
in 


THE   PLANTER 

David's  arm.  "Oh,  my  God,  Mann!  I  felt  him 
reach  around  my  neck  to  my  chin,  and  I  couldn't 
stop  him.  Oh,  my  God!  Another  second — " 

"Blast  your  neck!"  Hertzer  broke  brutally  in  on 
his  frenzy  of  agitation.  "Look  at  Carmen  over  there, 
and  my  ribs  are  all  stove  in.  Here,  help  to  tie  the 
brute.  If  he  comes  to  we'll  have  the  job  all  over." 

Though  he  must  have  been  suffering  intensely,  he 
did  the  tying  himself,  then  led  over  to  Carmen,  who 
now  lay  quiet  save  for  a  low  moaning.  "Only  a  dis 
location,"  he  remarked,  with  the  same  brutal  indif 
ference.  "The  beast  hadn't  time  to  do  a  good  job. 
You  chaps  sit  on  his  back  and  legs  while  I  take  a 
haul  on  his  head.  Now,  all  together !  Heigh-ho, 
away  we  go!"  He  laughed  as  the  vertebrae  cracked 
into  place.  "  Now,  Mann,  if  you'll  just  bring  a  hatful 
of  water  he'll  eat  from  the  hand  in  five  minutes.  I'm 
going  to  cut  a  few  bejucas  to  put  in  pickle  for  our 
friend." 

Laughing  harshly  again,  he  picked  up  his  machete 
and  moved  a  few  steps  toward  the  thick  jungle.  The 
passion  of  conflict  had  apparently  passed ;  outwardly, 
at  least,  he  was  his  usual  cold,  sardonic  self.  But 
his  calmness  was  merely  superficial.  Coming  on 
top  of  that  long,  vexatious  hunt,  his  discomfiture  at 
the  Yaqui's  hands  had  inflamed  his  savage  temper; 
raised  it  to  a  pitch  that  was  bound  to  force  an  outlet. 
And  noticing  that  the  prisoner's  eyes  had  opened, 
he  now  deflected  his  course  and  stood  looking  down 
upon  him.  David  had  gone  for  water.  Phelps  still 

112 


—  THE   MAN 

knelt  by  Carmen.  So  neither  saw  the  answering  look, 
the  stubborn  hatred,  bitter  triumph  that  touched  off 
his  rage. 

Turning  at  his  furious  oath,  David  did  see  his 
heavy  heel  descend  on  the  prisoner's  face,  the  shower 
of  kicks  that  followed.  In  his  furious  obsession, 
animal  desire  to  crush  and  grind,  he  danced  back 
and  forth,  driving  his  heel  into  body,  ribs,  stomach 
with  the  "heugh"  of  a  woodman — so  utterly  pos 
sessed  that  he  forgot  even  the  machete  in  his  hand 
until  Phelps,  whose  nerve  was  completely  gone, 
screamed  aloud: 

"Hertzer!     Hertzer!     You'll  kill  him!" 

Thus  reminded,  he  swung  the  blade  on  high,  tip 
toeing  to  strike  while  his  roar  boomed  through  the 
forest.  "Kill  him?  Yes,  by  God!  I  will!" 

Had  it  fallen  the  head  would  have  been  lopped  like 
cabbage.  But  even  in  this,  the  climax  of  his  passion, 
the  acquisitive  Jew  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  Ber- 
sark  Slav,  and  he  turned  the  blade  so  that  it  fell  flat 
on  the  naked  shoulders.  "No,  I'll  work  him  to 
death  by  inches!" 

Delivered  with  all  of  his  weight,  the  blow  fell  with 
the  thud  of  a  shovel  upon  a  grave,  and  a  wale  lifted 
spotted  with  red  where  the  blood  forced  up  through 
the  pores.  Through  all  the  Yaqui  had  endured  in 
silence,  and  even  now  his  flesh  yielded  only  a  slow 
shiver  to  the  torture ;  and  as  Hertzer  raised  to  strike 
again,  the  weapon  was  suddenly  snatched  from  his 
hand. 

"3 


THE    PLANTER 

"You  brute!  Oh,  you  brute!"  David's  protest 
issued  in  choking  sobs.  "You  beast!  Coward!  You 
dared  not  have  done  that  if  his  hands  had  been  un 
tied." 

For  a  moment  Hertzer  stared  into  the  lad's  white 
face,  then  he  swung  his  open  palm,  struck  out  wildly, 
blindly,  with  such  violence  that  David  was  lifted 
from  his  feet.  "You  pup!  You  mealy  mouthed 
pup!"  From  its  usual  booming  masculinity,  his  voice 
rose  to  a  strident  yell.  "You  dare  to  fool  with  me! 
I'll—" 

But  the  blow  had  loosed  in  David  —  David,  the 
meekly  spectacled,  of  the  Sabbath-school  training — 
had  loosed  his  father's  soul  from  his  mother's  leash, 
the  soul  that  had  dominated  the  roaring  bullies  of  a 
dozen  lumber-camps.  Before  Hertzer  could  finish  his 
threat  he  was  up,  and  came  like  a  bull-dog  straight 
at  his  throat — came  from  a  second  fall  and  a  third, 
fighting  as  if  he  liked  it. 

According  to  accepted  traditions — traditions  of  fic 
tion — he  ought  to  have  won,  and  he  would  if  pluck 
were  the  only  concomitant  of  a  victory.  But  truth 
compels  the  statement  that  he  received  a  thorough 
drubbing.  He  emerged,  however,  without  damage 
to  his  spirit,  for  when,  beaten  to  a  pulp,  he  could  no 
longer  break  from  Phelps's  restraining  hands,  he  still 
continued  to  hurl  defiances:  "You  brute!  Coward! 
You  brutal  coward!" — continued  them  in  the  face  of 
the  Englishman's  whispered  warning: 

"Hush,  Mann!     Hush!  he'll  kill  you!" 
114 


—  THE    MAN 

The  struggle,  however,  had  afforded  the  necessary 
outlet  for  Hertzer's  passion,  and  he  returned  only 
a  sarcastic  grin  to  the  lad's  reproaches.  Glasses 
gone,  one  eye  closed,  nose  freely  bleeding,  it  must  be 
confessed  that  he  did  fall  sufficiently  short  of  the 
heroic  to  justify  the  smile,  but  as  he  never  dreamed 
of  his  being  heroic  he  suffered  nothing  on  that  account. 
He  issued  his  defiances  up  to  the  moment  that,  hav 
ing  got  the  Yaqui  to  his  feet,  Hertzer  drove  him 
toward  the  arroyo,  with  Carmen  following. 

"Come  on,  Phelps;"  he  called,  looking  back  from 
the  crest  of  the  bank. 

"You,  too,  Mann,"  the  Englishman  urged.  "You 
can't  stay  here."  Noting  the  lad's  look  at  the  dead 
woman,  he  nodded  up  at  the  vultures.  "They'll 
undertake  it." 

Instead  of  following,  however,  David  stepped 
down  into  the  shallow  grave  and  began  to  dig  with 
his  machete. 

Turning,  Phelps  raised  eyebrows  at  Hertzer,  who 
winked;  then  for  a  space  both  stood,  staring.  But 
with  the  passing  of  the  Englishman's  hysteria  had 
returned  his  reverence  for  the  proprieties,  and  he 
presently  broke  out:  "Oh,  look  here,  Mann,  this 
will  never  do.  No  white  man  ever  works  in  the 
tropics.  It  isn't  good  form,  and  if  it  gets  around 
that  you  buried  a  dead  enganchada  you'll  lose  caste 
even  with  the  natives.  Come  along,  and  I'll  send 
out  a  peon." 

"  I'll  wait  till  he  comes." 


THE   PLANTER 

"Oh,  come  on." 

David  went  on  digging. 

Phelps  gave  up. 

Glancing  up  as  he  walked  away,  David  saw  the 
Yaqui  looking  back  a:  him  from  the  crest  of  the  bank. 
Throughout  the  struggle  the  man  had  displayed  a 
sullen  indifference.  What  to  him  if  the  white  men 
chose  to  beat  each  other?  But  when  David  stepped 
into  the  grave,  black  hatred  had  given  place  to  startled 
surprise.  Now  his  stoicism  emitted  a  flash — a  look 
so  poignantly  human  that  it  pi  reed  David's  heart 
like  a  sword.  Like  a  ray  through  a  storm  cloud  it 
flashed  out,  and  he  was  gone. 

Now,  David  was  only  a  lad — a  lad  raised  in  a  tender 
atmosphere  with  sympathies  unseared  by  suffering; 
so  let  him  not  be  charged  with  maudlin  sentiment 
because  he  sat  down  and  cried.  They  came  again, 
the  tears,  when  in  placing  the  woman  in  the  grave 
half  an  hour  later  he  disturbed  her  shawl,  and  so 
found  himself  looking  into  a  face  young  and  comely 
despite  its  darkness.  What  with  the  softness  of  the 
forest  mould  he  had  made  a  quick  finish,  so  no  eyes 
but  those  of  the  leaden  watchers  observed  him  upon 
his  knees,  no  ear  caught  his  murmured  prayer.  Ris 
ing,  much  comforted,  he  filled  and  smoothed  the 
grave  with  his  hands,  and  so  left  the  poor  slave  to 
sleep  in  silence  and  solitude  that  was  broken  only 
by  the  muffled  requiem  of  departing  wings. 


IX 

A    VISIT 

MtDWAY  of  the  same  forenoon  Andrea  lounged 
in  the  cook-house  doorway.  One  foot  on  either 
side  of  the  sill  and  comely  shoulders  propped  against 
the  thill,  her  position  made  up  in  comfort  what  it 
lacked  in  elegance,  and  had  other  advantages  in  that 
it  permitted  her  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  trail  while 
training  her  ear  to  the  gossip  within.  As  the  sun 
approached  the  meridian  its  vertical  rays  burned 
the  dust  beyond  her  outer  foot,  throwing  so  narrow 
a  shadow  that  her  smooth  arm  made  a  splash  of  gold 
beyond  its  edge  as  she  stretched  in  a  yawn.  Above, 
the  sere  thatch  rustled  dryly  to  a  stir  of  air  with 
parched  cracklings;  the  rich  tufts  of  a  rubber-tree 
near  by  had  lost  their  gloss,  hung  limply  as  steamy 
rags.  Under  that  fierce  blaze,  indeed,  green  things 
fried,  dry  things  cracked  or  crumbled,  live  things — 
such  as  Rafaela's  chickens  and  pigs — hugged  the 
shadow  under  walls,  and  stood,  beaks  agape,  tongues 
lolling.  Andrea,  however,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  heat. 
Placid  as  a  cow  in  a  sunlit  meadow,  she  took  her  ease, 
which  seemed  the  more  enjoyable  by  contrast  with 

117 


THE    PLANTER 

the  perspirings  of  the  enganchada  women  who  formed 
a  sort  of  chorus  to  the  gossip. 

In  essence  this  did  not  differ  so  very  widely  from 
the  tattle  that  may  be  heard  at  a  Fifth  Avenue  table 
any  day  of  the  week.  But  whereas  the  admiring 
exclamations  with  which  the  chorus  punctuated  the 
head  woman's  discourse  might  easily  have  come  from 
the  lips  of  the  satellites  of  some  woman  of  fashion, 
they  were  the  more  excusable  because  Rafaela's 
heavy  fist  hung  ready  to  punish  the  laggard  in  adu 
lation.  In  subject  and  range  of  conversation  the 
comparison  may  be  carried  still  farther ;  for  beginning 
with  Hertzer's  runaways,  it  had  passed  to  Patricia; 
and  after  taking  the  usual  liberties  with  her  person 
and  character,  had  moved  on  to  Andrea's  prospects. 
In  setting  forth  these,  moreover,  no  society  woman 
on  the  trail  of  a  husband  would  have  been  more 
enthusiastic  than  Rafaela;  she  differed  only  in  her 
perfect  frankness. 

"It  is  for  you  pigs  of  the  plateau  to  rub  and  scrub, 
with  the  machete-flat  for  pay  and  a  worn-out  en- 
ganchador  for  play,"  she  told  the  chorus,  with  more 
of  candor  than  politeness.  "But  Andrea,  she  can 
take  her  pick  of  the  Gringos." 

"Si,  si!"  The  woman  whom  David  had  saved 
from  the  stick  now  made  up  for  the  humiliation  then 
sustained  through  her  by  the  head  woman,  in  her 
vigorous  show  of  belief.  "Si,  senora,  and  Don  David 
the  first  of  them.  Only  four  days  on  the  finca,  and 
'tis  easy  to  see  whose  way  the  wind  sets." 

118 


A    VISIT 

"Si,  si!"  the  others  echoed. 

Encouraged  by  the  dawn  of  a  smile  on  the  head 
woman's  grim  visage,  the  first  woman  ran  on:  "Of 
course  he  will  take  thee  to  the  fiesta  of  San  Juan 
next  year,  Andrea.  And  I  am  no  judge  of  a  man  if 
there  be  not  a  dress  of  crimson  velours  to  the  fore, 
with  embroidery  so  stiff  that  it  stands  of  itself." 

"And  an  American  gold  eagle  to  add  to  thy  neck- 
chain,"  a  second  added. 

"Si,  she  will  rufHe  it  with  the  best  of  them,"  came 
in  a  third.  "Lola,  the  woman  of  Senor  Phelps,  will 
not  be  nearly  as  fine." 

"No,  nor  the  Senorita  Patricia,"  The  first  woman 
rose  to  the  highest  peak  of  flattery,  and  so  achieved 
her  reward. 

"Go  thou  and  suckle  thy  child,  Casamira."  The 
head  woman  graciously  acceded  to  a  request  made  an 
hour  before.  "But  remember — not  too  long." 

Thus  stimulated,  and  under  the  urge  of  their  own 
aching  breasts,  the  other  mothers  fell  to,  each  trying 
to  be  first  in  quality  and  quantity  of  her  compli 
mentary  teasings;  plied  Andrea  with  jokes  that  would 
have  caused  David  to  burn  could  he  have  heard  the 
mildest,  and  which  were  yet  innocent  enough  judged 
by  their  standards.  For  a  Zacateco  marriage  en 
dures  only  so  long  as  circumstances  permit ;  a  woman 
is  at  liberty  to  marry  again  when  conditions  break 
the  tie;  and  as  to  keep  the  house  of  a  Gringo  is  the 
dream  of  every  Zacateco  girl,  there  was  nothing  im 
proper  in  their  hints  that  Andrea's  estate  already 

119 


THE    PLANTER 

bore  the  color  of  her  hopes.  Had  there  been,  Ra- 
faela's  fist  would  have  quickly  corrected  the  lapse. 
As  it  was,  she  joined  in  the  chaff  which  would  have 
been  broad  enough  in  a  congregation  of  young  matrons 
poking  fun  at  a  newly  married  girl,  led  them  to  fresh 
attacks  after  Andrea's  every  denial. 

"Nada,  nada,  senoras.  No  es!"  Time  and  again 
she  flung  it  over  her  shapely  shoulder.  But  there 
are  ways  and  ways  of  saying  no,  and  the  accompany 
ing  smile  was  twin  to  that  of  the  young  girl  who, 
feeling  pretty  sure  of  her  game,  takes  time  by  the 
forelock  and  whispers  in  her  chum's  ear:  "But  we 
don't  want  it  known  yet." 

Whether  or  no  she  intended  this  interpretation, 
this  much  is  certain:  Casamira's  allusion  to  the  fiesta 
of  San  Juan  fired  Andrea's  imagination,  and  for  an 
hour  thereafter  she  mused,  returning  only  an  ab 
stracted  "Nada,  senoras,"  to  the  lively  banter.  Vel 
vet  eyes  fixed  on  the  far  spot  where  the  jungle  trail 
debouched  on  the  clearing,  she  dreamed  of  the  fiesta, 
the  greatest  of  the  year,  the  fiesta  where  the  women- 
kind,  white  and  brown,  for  a  hundred  miles  around 
would  strut  in  glories  of  velours,  lace,  and  linen.  It 
was,  to  be  sure,  still  months  away,  but  in  this  short 
time  Andrea  had  sized  her  man  and  knew  him  for 
no  ordinary  Gringo  to  be  won  by  a  smile  in  the  dusk. 
His  subjugation  might  require  every  day  of  the  time. 
Still  he  was  young,  therefore  presumably  generous, 
and  if  properly  handled —  She  was  seeing  herself  out 
shining  even  Patricia  at  the  fiesta  when  a  dark  figure 

120 


A    VISIT 

impinged  on  the  quivering  waves  of  heat.  The  sub 
ject  of  her  reflections  rode  into  the  clearing. 

The  speculation  in  her  glance  gave  place  to  aston 
ishment  and  dismay  as  he  rode  in  among  the  build 
ings,  and  her  cry,  "  Oh,  sefior!"  brought  her  mother 
and  the  other  women  to  the  door. 

What  with  the  heat,  emotional  exhaustion,  and  the 
sleep  which  weighed  heavily  upon  him,  David  had 
ridden  the  last  miles  in  a  sort  of  coma,  dim  dream 
through  which  fragments  of  the  events  of  the  morning 
floated  disconnectedly.  But  now,  remembering  his 
bruises,  he  reddened  and  turned  his  face  away  from 
their  curious  stares.  "It  is  nothing,"  he  answered 
Andrea's  voluble  questions.  But  he  was  not  to  es 
cape  so  easily.  She  ran  after,  and  while  unsaddling 
at  the  stables  she  drew  from  him,  or,  rather,  he  per 
mitted  her  to  create  her  own  version  of  the  story. 

They  had  caught  the  runaways? 

Yes. 

And  there  had  been  a  struggle? 

Yes. 

These  wounds?  Surely  the  devil  of  a  runagate 
had  not  dared  to  lay  hands  on  the  sacred  person  of  a 
Gringo  ? 

Fortunately  for  David's  sensitive  conscience  the 
latter  question  was  really  an  exclamation,  for  with 
out  waiting  for  answer  she  ran  on,  cursing  his  assail 
ant  with  a  variety  and  quality  of  oath  that  would 
have  raised  David's  hair  had  he  understood.  So 
tired,  however,  that  her  cursing  seemed  to  come  like 

9  121 


THE    PLANTER 

a  sough  of  a  distant  forest,  he  never  even  listened. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  he  missed  her  when  she  sud 
denly  left  the  stable  or  heard  her  come  in  as,  later, 
he  sat  on  the  rickety  bench  in  the  house  trying  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  wash  his  sore  face.  Dimly  he 
was  conscious  of  a  calabash  containing  a  green,  suc 
culent  mess  like  pounded  spinach,  which  she  set  on 
the  table  at  his  elbow;  but  before  he  could  make  up 
his  mind  whether  or  no  this  was  for  consumption, 
she  suddenly  plastered  a  handful  over  his  eyes. 

It  felt  so  pleasantly  cool  that  he  cancelled  a  first 
impulse  to  struggle,  contenting  himself  with  a  blush 
that  almost  cooked  the  plaster  in  protest  at  the  in 
timacy  of  the  treatment.  But  he  was  almost  too 
sleepy  for  even  this  gentle  shame.  He  yielded  him 
self  up  in  drowsy  enjoyment;  sat  still  even  when  a 
smooth  arm  touched  his  cheek  as  she  reached  around 
to  smooth  and  massage  his  bruises;  sat  until,  sinking 
back,  his  sleepy  head  brought  up  on  a  pillow  that 
was  soft  and  warm. 

Uttering  a  quick  apology,  he  straightened  in  stiff 
rigidity  and  would  have  broken  away  but  for  a  feeling 
of  ungraciousness.  Her  quiet  answer,  "  Nada,  senor, 
it  is  nothing,"  helped  to  soothe  him.  Another  min 
ute  and  he  relaxed,  felt  only  the  comfort  of  the  hands 
smoothing  his  aching  flesh;  was  pleasantly  conscious 
of  light  rifting  in  yellow  bars  through  the  split-pole 
siding,  of  motes  dancing  in  bright  beams,  of  the  rich 
dusk  of  the  brown  roof  above.  Bearing  more  heavily 
upon  him,  deep  sleep  presently  robbed  his  senses,  and 

122 


A   VISIT 

his  head  drooped  to  the  girl's  bosom  as  easily  as  it 
had  ever  gone  to  that  of  his  mother. 

"Hello!     What  the—" 

Springing  up,  David  saw  Ewing  grinning  in  the 
doorway. 

"Sorry  I  butted  in,"  he  said;  "but  I  had  to  come 
over  for  my  horse,  and  I  wanted  to  hear  the  news. 
It  will  keep  another  day." 

"Here!"  David  stopped  him  as  he  made  a  show 
of  retiring.  Reddening,  he  stammered:  "You — you 
surely — didn't  think — " 

"No,  I  didn't,"  Ewing  dryly  interrupted.  "It 
doesn't  pay — in  these  latitudes.  What's  the  matter 
with  your  face  ?  Looks  like  corned-beef  and  cabbage. ' ' 

With  angry  bruises  distributed  among  Andrea's 
poultices,  his  countenance  undoubtedly  bore  a  start 
ling  resemblance  to  that  homely  dish;  but  just  then 
David's  concern  was  all  for  his  moral  complexion,  and 
he  ran  eagerly  on:  "Look  here,  Ewing.  She  insisted 
on  treating  my  bruises,  and  I  was  so  dog-tired  that  I 
fell  asleep  under  her  hands." 

"'Sleeping  Beauty,'  masculine  gender,  eh?  And 
she  took  base  advantage  of  unconscious  loveliness. 
Poor  chap,  how  I  pity  you!  Oh,  come,"  he  added, 
laughing,  as  David  frowned,  "don't  get  mad.  I'm 
only  joshing.  But  what  about  your  face?" 

"In  a  minute."  David  glanced  at  Andrea,  who 
stood  waiting,  ready  to  resume  her  practice.  "  Now, 
will  you  get  me  something  to  eat?"  he  asked. 

123 


THE    PLANTER 

Nodding,  she  picked  up  her  calabash,  but,  though 
she  complied  cheerfully  enough,  her  glance  at  Ewing, 
passing  out,  could  hardly  be  considered  compliment 
ary  to  his  presence. 

"She,  at  least,  believes  that  two's  company, "  he 
laughed.  "Tha  piaster  is  good  dope,  all  right.  I've 
seen  it  used  before.  But  I'd  advise  personal  applica 
tions  after  this  if  you  wish  to  avoid  matrimonial  com 
plications.  Now,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

He  nodded  when  David  finished.  "Hertzer's  sure 
ly  a  bad  man  to  cross.  It's  a  wonder  you  came  out 
so  well.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  dose  he  handed 
to  Meagher,  and  that  over  a  simple  deal  in  beans. 
The  Irishman  kept  his  bed  for  a  week.  But  I'm 
keeping  you  from  your  rest.  I  slept  all  morning,  so 
now  I'll  just  ride  on  to  La  Luna  and  see  what's  doing. 
See  you  to-night." 

David  walked  with  him  to  the  stable,  where  he 
exchanged  the  horse  he  was  riding  for  that  which 
he  had  left  the  night  before.  When  he  returned 
Andrea  had  just  finished  setting  out  his  meal,  which 
he  ate  in  uncomfortable  silence,  omitting  the  lesson 
in  Spanish  which  usually  enlivened  the  meal.  Though 
she  waited  upon  him  with  quiet  civility,  he  felt,  or 
thought  he  felt,  her  reaching  out  to  a  secret,  more 
intimate  footing.  Whenever  she  passed  behind  him 
he  straightened  involuntarily,  and  was  furiously 
angry  at  the  thrills  which  his  flesh,  the  exultant 
unconquerable  flesh,  yielded  to  her  proximity.  Sit 
ting  very  rigid,  he  avoided  her  eye,  returned  brusque 

124 


A    VISIT 

monosyllables  to  her  questions,  almost  yelled  his 
refusal  when,  having  cleared  away,  she  brought  in 
her  calabash  for  another  dressing. 

Afterward  he  did  a  thing  that  had  never  occurred 
to  him  before.  The  door,  a  poor  affair  of  split  poles, 
boasted  a  cross-bar,  which  he  dropped  into  place 
before  he  lay  down  to  sleep,  a  precaution  that  drew 
Ewing's  smile  when  he  returned  that  evening. 

"Virtue  intrenched,"  he  muttered,  smiling;  but 
went  on  with  his  recital  of  events  without  comment 
after  David  had  let  him  in. 

"Well,  I  arrived  just  in  time  for  the  execution — " 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  they  killed  him?"  David 
burst  in. 

"Not  exactly.  Better  if  they  had.  When  I  got 
there  they  had  the  poor  devil  stretched  out,  hands 
and  feet  tied  to  two  stakes  driven  into  the  ground, 
and  Hertzer  and  two  cabos  were  whaling  him  at  once 
with  slim  bejucas.  It  isn't  the  first  flogging  I  have 
witnessed.  I've  paddled  a  few  myself.  But — ugh! 
it  was  brutal,  and,  worst  of  all,  Patricia  saw  it — 
looked  on  from  the  house  veranda.  As  it  turned 
out,  it  was  well  that  she  did.  You  see,  Hertzer  was 
bound  to  degrade  him  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellows 
who  were  ranged  up  under  the  cabos'  rifles.  If  he 
had  cried  out,  I  really  believe  she  would  have  seen 
his  heart  cut  out  without  a  shiver.  But  he  didn't; 
and  after  ten  minutes  of  it  she  came  flying  out,  a 
white  flutter  of  garments,  and  fell  on  Hertzer  like  a 
hawk  on  a  dog. 

125 


THE    PLANTER 

" '  You  sha'n't  touch  him  again !'  she  cried,  and  clung 
to  his  arm.  He  stared  down  at  her  just  as  you  said 
he  did  at  you  this  morning.  Once  he  raised  his  free 
fist,  but  she  gave  him  eyes  as  hard  as  his  own,  and 
he  dropped  it  again  with  a  laugh.  'He's  yours — 
that  is,  what's  left  of  him.' 

"There  really  wasn't  much.  I  thought  he  was 
dead,  for  he  lay  with  a  bubble  of  foam  on  his  lips. 
But  she  had  him  carried  to  the  house,  and  prepared 
vinegar  and  water  herself  to  wash  his  bruises.  A 
young  wife  could  scarcely  have  shown  more  solicitude 
over  an  injured  husband:  yet  when  he  was  once  more 
on  his  feet  she  ordered  him  back  to  the  galera  with 
an  indifference  that  outdid  even  Hertzer's  coldness. 

"She  even  joked  with  her  father.  'Don't  forget 
that  he's  mine.  I  have  always  wanted  a  slave  of 
my  own,  and  now  I've  got  one.  If  you  need  him, 
you'll  have  to  buy  him  back.'  And  she  laughed 
when  he  asked  her  price,  answering:  'Oh,  a  couple 
of  silk  dresses  and  a  trip  to  Ciudad  Mexico.' " 

"As  though  he  were  a  dog!"  David  commented. 

"Exactly.  She  would  probably  have  raised  as 
much  fuss  over  a  hound.  As  they  spoke  in  Spanish, 
the  Yaqui  understood,  and  I  tell  you,  Mann,  if  he 
had  given  my  daughter  the  look  he  turned  on  her,  I 
wouldn't  dare  to  take  a  chance  on  his  life.  But 
though  Hertzer  saw  it,  he  only  laughed.  He  was 
glad  the  fellow's  spirit  remained  unbroken,  for  he 
takes  the  same  delight  in  breaking  a  man  that  you 
or  I  might  in  subduing  a  vicious  horse.  But  now  I 

126 


A    VISIT 

must  be  going.  I've  hardly  been  home  these  three 
days." 

Stepping  with  him  to  the  door,  David  took  a  deep 
breath  of  the  fresh  night  air.  "Well,  adding  what 
you  have  just  told  me  to  the  little  I  have  seen  of  Mr. 
Hertzer,  I'm  not  sorry  that  we  quarrelled.  We  shall 
not  see  much  of  each  other." 

"Don't  be  so  sure."  Ewing  looked  up  from  the 
cinch  he  was  tightening.  "He  has  nothing  against 
you.  Seems  rather  to  admire  your  pluck.  He  and 
Meagher  were  thick  as  thieves  in  less  than  a  month 
after  their  squabble,  so  don't  be  surprised  if  he  drops 
in  on  you." 

"Well,  he  need  not." 

"Oh,  look  here,"  Ewing  protested,  "I  don't  take 
much  stock  in  him  myself,  but  on  this  river  we  are 
only  a  half-dozen  white  men  against  three  thousand 
Indians.  We  can't  afford  quarrels." 

Looking  down  from  the  saddle,  he  saw  in  the  light 
from  the  doorway  the  ten  generations  of  Puritan 
ancestors  that  looked  out  of  David's  eyes. 

' '  I  have  no  quarrel  with  him,  but  I  cannot  endure 
his  methods,  and  so  shall  leave  him  alone." 

"But  you  can't.  You  don't  know  Hertzer.  With 
him  there's  no  middle  course;  he's  either  your  friend 
or  your  enemy,  and  in  the  latter  case  he'll  do  his  best 
to  do  you  up.  Be  advised.  Treat  him  decently." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  civil.  I  wouldn't  be  other  to  his  dog. 
But  as  for  friendship — it  is  out  of  the  question." 

"Very  well,  so  long  as  you  don't  antagonize  him." 
127 


THE   PLANTER 

Ewing  let  it  go  at  that.  "Now,  remember,  you  are 
to  come  over  to  dinner  next  Sunday." 

"With  this  face?" 

"Why,  of  course.  Keep  on  with  Andrea's  dope, 
and  there  won't  be  much  left.  You  couldn't  have  a 
better  introduction  to  my  wife.  She's  almost  as 
rabid  as  you  against  the  system,"  he  added,  laughing. 
41  Really,  I  doubt  it  is  a  mistake  to  bring  you  together. 
I'm  afraid  you'll  run  me  off  the  plantation." 

By  Sunday,  indeed,  the  swelling  had  altogether 
subsided,  and  beyond  a  blueness  under  one  eye  Da 
vid's  countenance  had  resumed  its  usual  pacific  mild 
ness.  His  glasses,  to  be  sure,  were  gone — smashed 
irretrievably  in  the  struggle;  but,  as  before  hinted, 
they  were  due  to  his  mother's  fears  rather  than  a 
real  weakness  in  his  sight,  and  he  was  delighted  to 
find  how  easily  he  got  along  without  them.  As 
Ewing  had  said,  the  bruise  proved  the  best  of  intro 
ductions,  not  only  to  his  pretty  little  wife,  but  also 
to  the  half-dozen  planters  who  had  drifted  in  from 
plantations  fifty  or  a  hundred  miles  away  by  trail 
or  river  to  lazy  a  day  upon  her  veranda,  and  forget 
their  loneliness  in  the  sweet  feminine  presence. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  fought  Hertzer?" 
these  exclaimed,  with  incredulous  whistles  at  Ewing's 
explanation  of  the  discoloration,  and  his  conduct  in 
this  respect  cancelled  the  contempt  excited  by  his 
heterodox  opinions  concerning  the  treatment  of  en- 
ganchadores.  If  they  rallied  him  a  bit,  offering  wet 

128 


A    VISIT 

nurses  for  use  in  his  creche,  they  yet  made  him  of 
their  number,  told  him  stories,  and  gave  him  sound 
advice  about  his  rubber. 

And  Mrs.  Ewing  championed  him  against  the  good- 
natured  raillery  before  them  and  in  private.  "What 
if  the  poor  creatures  are  faithless  and  ungrateful?" 
she  encouraged  him.  "That  does  not  excuse  cruelty 
in  us.  We  owe  it  to  ourselves  to  do  the  best  we  can 
for  them.  Keep  on ;  you'll  put  them  all  in  the  wrong." 

The  visit  went  far  toward  reconciling  the  lad  to 
his  labors  in  other  ways,  injecting  a  spice  of  social 
intercourse  into  the  tedium  of  the  long  hot  days. 
"You  can't  have  a  piano  in  a  climate  that  melts 
soap  on  the  washstand,"  Ewing  said,  apologizing  for 
his  phonograph.  "And  this  is  the  best  we  could  get 
of  its  kind."  So  nocturnes,  grand  opera  arias,  band 
concerts  floated  out  on  the  steamy  dusk — music  gone 
to  brass,  but  good  enough  in  default  of  better.  It 
enlivened  an  hour,  thickened  it  with  crowding  mem 
ories,  sent  him  home  the  following  day  happier,  more 
content. 

"Oh,  he'll  come,"  Ewing  said  again,  when,  depart 
ing,  David  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  Hertzer's  proposed 
visit. 

Judging  by  his  own  feelings,  David  found  it  hard 
to  believe,  and  when  Maria  Guadaloupe  reported  one 
evening  a  week  later  that  Hertzer  had  crossed  the 
plantation  that  morning  disbelief  settled  in  convic 
tion. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  thought;  and  dismissing  the 
129 


THE    PLANTER 

matter  from  his  mind,  he  proceeded  to  "despatch" 
the  men  who  were  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  store. 
Glass  in  one  hand,  a  jug  of  aguardiente  in  the  other, 
he  followed  the  mandador  down  the  line,  supple 
menting  the  daily  ration  of  cigarros  with  a  copa  of 
the  fiery  liquid,  and  had  barely  gained  half-way  be 
fore  a  snatch  of  song  drifted  in  from  the  far  edge  of 
the  clearing: 

"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  nearer  to  Thee, 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross  that  raiseth  me — " 

"Ewing,"  he  thought  at  first;  but  he  noticed  as 
the  sound  drew  nearer  that,  besides  being  off  key,  the 
singer  flatted  his  notes  and  was  following  his  own 
time  in  and  out  the  tune  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
been  impossible  for  the  planter,  who  sang  a  correct 
barytone.  Turning  at  a  titter  behind  him,  he  saw 
Andrea,  who  was  waiting  to  draw  the  morrow's 
ration  of  corn,  covering  her  mouth;  the  mandador 
and  his  two  cabos  were  also  hiding  grins,  while  a  wan 
smile  lightened  the  sombre  gravity  of  even  the  tired 
enganchadores. 

"It  is  the  Senor  Hertzer,"  Maria  Guadaloupe  re 
plied  to  his  question.  Then  he  remembered  that 
Ewing  had  spo  en  of  Hertzer's  passion  for  music — 
how  he  kept  his  phonograph  going  in  and  out  of  sea 
son;  would  listen  as  long  as  any  one  would  sing;  of 
his  prefei^nce  for  hymns  because  of  their  simpler 
melody. 

One  branch  of  the  trail  crossed  the  clearing  a  half 
130 


A   VISIT 

mile  from  the  buildings,  and  he  thought  and  hoped 
that  Hertzer  was  upon  it.  But,  drawing  nearer,  the 
raucous  strains  told  that  he  had  taken  the  turn  which 
led  to  the  house,  and  as  David  filled  the  copa  for  the 
last  man  Hertzer  rode  up,  and  tied  his  horse  to  a 
hitching-post. 

Although  his  reformations  toward  cleanliness  had 
already  reduced  his  sick-list,  there  were  still  a  few 
left-overs — granos  (blood  -  poisonings) ,  calenturas — 
from  Meagher's  dirty  regime,  and  just  acknowledging 
Hertzer's  nod  David  turned  to  his  medical  practice. 

Not  one  whit  disconcerted,  Hertzer  leaned  in  the 
store  doorway  and  looked  on  in  silence.  "Are  you 
working  those  fellows?"  he  asked  at  last,  and  he 
shrugged  his  big  shoulders  as  David  shook  his  head; 
"A  mistake.  That  fellow" — he  pointed  at  a  febrile 
tatterdemalion  who  was  shaking  with  calentura — 
"  will  die  in  the  teeth  of  you,  so  why  not  get  out  the 
little  that's  in  him?  You  don't  see  why  he  should? 
Well,  listen.  Here,  you!  Veinte-dos!"  He  called 
the  man's  number  in  Spanish.  "  You  are  going  to 
die,  aren't  you?" 

"Si,  senor!"  The  answer  came  with  an  alacrity 
that  was  almost  cheerful. 

"There  you  are,"  Hertzer  went  on,  after  he  had 
translated  his  question.  Dropping  into  a  sort  of 
confidential  colloquial  vein,  he  continued:  "It's  the 
funniest  damn  thing,  but  they  seem  to  be  able  to  die 
at  will,  and  when  the  bug  once  gets  into  their  heads 
you  can't  get  it  out — even  by  flogging.  And  it's 


THE    PLANTER 

infectious — will  clean  out  a  galera  quicker  than  yel 
low-fever.  So  if  you  have  a  fairly  healthy  lot,  you'd 
better  drive  them  while  you  can.  They'll  go  off  like 
rotten  sheep  when  the  rains  set  in." 

Without  answering,  David  dosed  the  last  calentura 
with  quinine,  then  marched  the  others  to  the  trough 
at  the  galera  gate,  and  stood  there  superintending 
the  washing.  Lazily,  Hertzer  followed.  While  talk 
ing  his  manner  had  been  entirely  devoid  of  embar 
rassment,  evidenced  only  a  diabolical  humor;  now  a 
grim  twitching  at  the  puckered  corners  of  his  mouth 
was  all  that  he  vouchsafed  to  David's  silence.  With 
a  sang-froid  that  was  even  more  remarkable,  he  said, 
as  the  last  patient  filed  into  the  galera:  "  It  is  too  late 
for  me  to  make  Phelps's  for  supper.  If  you  will 
have  your  moso  give  my  horse  a  feed  of  corn,  I'll  walk 
around  with  you  and  see  what  you've  done  while  the 
girl  cooks  supper.  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  a  few 
pointers." 

And  his  cool  assumption  served.  Had  he  attempt 
ed  either  explanation  or  apology,  David's  compelling 
candor  would  have  undoubtedly  caused  another  rupt 
ure.  But  he  was  helpless  in  the  face  of  a  calmness 
that  took  no  more  cognizance  of  the  recent  past  than 
if  it  had  been  dead  and  gone  these  thousand  years. 
So,  though  he  had  little  stomach  for  Hertzer's  com 
pany,  he  was  bound  by  tropic  tradition  and  ordinary 
politeness  to  extend  his  hospitality;  and  if  he  must 
spend  time  with  the  man,  better  to  be  out  walk 
ing  than  cooped  up  together  in  the  narrow  house. 

132 


A   VISIT 

So,  with  Hertzer  leading  at  a  brisk  pace,  they 
started. 

At  first  David  bore  himself  stiffly;  but  once  among 
the  plantings  and  Hertzer  talking,  interest  partly 
banished  constraint.  For  now,  as  on  the  morning 
when  they  had  ridden  with  Phelps  over  La  Luna, 
Hertzer's  one  enthusiasm  again  possessed  him.  His 
harsh  features  lit  up  with  an  almost  tender  anima 
tion  as  he  led  here  and  there,  pointing,  suggesting. 

"Now,  look  at  that!"  he  said,  pausing  by  a  brush- 
heap,  clearings  which  had  been  piled  in  the  open 
between  trees.  "That  will  never  do,  though  you 
will  see  the  same  thing  on  most  plantations.  You 
know,  rubber  roots  close  to  the  surface,  and  if  you 
keep  on  clearing  away  from  the  trees  instead  of 
toward  them,  the  soil  is  gradually  scraped  away  and 
you  leave  a  depression  for  the  rains  to  collect.  Rub 
ber  can't  stand  a  sour  wet  bed.  So  have  your  men 
pile  the  monte  around  the  trees.  It  makes  a  mulch 
in  the  dry  season,  runs  off  the  water  in  wet." 

Time  and  again,  too,  he  unsheathed '  his  machete 
to  trim  a  tree,  and  passing  through  an  uneven  plant 
ing  he  advised  restocking  from  a  nursery,  comple 
menting  his  advice  with  the  offer:  "I  have  a  couple 
of  thousand  thrifty  plants  that  I  don't  need.  You 
can  have  them  cheap." 

Apart  from  the  flash  of  calculation  which  accom 
panied  the  offer,  his  manner  all  through  displayed 
genuine  interest,  and  the  afterglow  from  his  enthu 
siasm  lent  almost  friendly  color  to  a  remark  made 


THE    PLANTER 

as  they  walked  back  through  falling  dusk.  "  Ewing 
tells  me  that  Osgood  tried  to  get  your  mother  to  in 
vest  in  this  f  "  He  swept  a  contemptuous  hand  around. 
"You  wired  her?  Good.  Wrote,  too,  I  suppose?" 

Partly  from  lack  of  time,  but  principally  because 
as  yet  opportunity  had  not  served  for  the  sending 
out  of  a  letter,  David  had  not  written.  Hertzer 
shook  his  head.  "In  this  country  wires  are  uncer 
tain  as  lightning.  They  sometimes  hit.  It  would 
have  paid  you  to  send  out.  Now,  I'm  going  down 
to  San  Juan  to-morrow,  so  you  had  better  scribble  a 
few  lines  after  supper." 

Now,  if  David  had  abated  a  little  of  his  stiffness, 
his  purpose  remained  untouched,  and  had  he  consulted 
only  his  inclination,  he  would  surely  have  refused  the 
favor.  But  just  as  though  he  divined  his  mental 
processes — indeed,  with  a  sort  of  ironic  intelligence — 
Hertzer  hustled  him  along  toward  whatever  end  he 
had  in  view.  For,  after  Andrea  had  cleared  away 
after  their  meal,  he  lit  his  pipe  and  threw  himself  at 
length  on  David's  catre. 

"  Now,  I'm  good  for  an  hour.  Fire  away  with  your 
writing." 

This  was  the  time  to  refuse,  but  even  David's  stub 
bornness  halted  at  the  ungraciousness  in  the  face  of 
such  good-humor,  and,  albeit  unwillingly,  he  sat  down 
to  his  writing.  Such  a  thing  as  a  twinkle  was  al 
together  foreign  to  Hertzer' s  cold  eye,  but,  looking 
on  from  the  bed,  the  lamplight  showed  him  grimly 
smiling  behind  a  blue  veil  of  smoke,  and  if  sarcastic 

134 


A    VISIT 

pucker  ever  told  a  secret,  he  was  pleased  at  his  suc 
cess  in  handling  the  refractory  youth.  His  eye,  now 
quiet  and  thoughtful,  again  piercingly  sharp,  told 
also  of  some  end,  and  catching  its  vivid  intelligence 
in  a  casual  glance,  David  sustained  a  sudden  recur 
rence  of  suspicion. 

"What  is  he  up  to?"  he  wondered,  as  he  bent 
again  to  his  writing.  "There's  a  string  behind  all 
this  kindness." 

There  was,  and  it  showed  when  the  letter  being 
duly  sealed  and  his  horse  brought  round,  Hertzer 
rose  to  go.  "By-the-way,"  he  said,  "I  have  a  quo 
tation  on  maize  and  frijoles  from  a  Vera  Cruz  house 
that  almost  cuts  San  Juan  prices  in  two,  and  I  thought 
I  would  let  you  in  on  it.  How  many  arrobas  of  each 
do  you  think  you  could  use?" 

The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag — such  a  measly  cat, 
such  a  dirty  bag.  Murder,  piracy,  highway  robbery, 
no  one  of  these  would  have  given  David  a  tithe  of 
the  astonishment  that  he  felt  at  this  sordid  motive. 
It  seemed  so  exceedingly  small,  so  miserably  inade 
quate  to  such  a  violent  scoundrel.  Yet  in  the  very 
moment  of  his  wonder  Ewing's  warning  flashed  into 
his  mind.  "He's  cheated  every  one  of  us.  Look 
out  if  he  trades  with  you." 

Quick  to  understand,  Hertzer  trimmed  sail  to  the 
cold  wind.  "Of  course  you  don't  need  to  give  me 
an  answer  to-night.  Look  over  your  stores,  compare 
my  prices  with  San  Juan.  Any  time  will  do  in  the 
next  month." 

135 


THE    PLANTER 

He  was  too  skilful  a  mariner;  better  that  he  had 
held  on  the  same  tack,  for  David  was  still  in  the  first 
throes  of  his  wonder.  "So  this  is  the  heart  of  his 
kindness,"  he  thought,  and  under  the  urge  of  his 
disgust  he  blurted  his  mind. 

"Thank  you,  but  I  prefer  to  do  my  own  trading." 

For  a  pause  Hertzer  stared,  while  his  heavy  brows 
swept  down  and  his  big  mouth  drew  into  an  iron  line. 
Of  the  planters  who  knew  and  feared  him  no  man 
would  have  dared  such  an  unqualified  refusal.  But 
the  very  novelty  of  it  amused  him,  and  he  suddenly 
burst  out  laughing. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  he  grinned,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"Good-night." 

But  David  drew  away,  and  so  for  a  moment  they 
stood,  the  lad  stubbornly  quiet,  the  man  searching 
him  with  piercing,  suspicious  glances. 

"No?"  he  questioned,  at  last.  "But  remember — 
it  was  you  that  refused  your  hand." 

Following  to  the  door,  David  listened  to  his  depart 
ing  hoof-beats.  The  man's  quiet  had  shaken  him 
where  bluster  would  have  failed.  For  the  moment 
he  felt  very  much  the  Pharisee,  and  was  minded 
to  call  him  back.  But  in  the  very  moment  of  the 
thought  Hertzer's  harsh  voice  broke  out  in  a  discord 
ant  parody: 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,  let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly." 
Going  in,  he  shut  the  door. 


THE    TROPICS    VS.    NEW    ENGLAND 

A  LAZY  drone  from  the  cook-house  floated  into 
the  store,  where  David  sat  at  his  accounts.  It 
was  extremely  hot  —  even  there  in  the  shade  —  for 
now  at  the  close  of  the  dry  season  each  day  seemed 
to  be  trying  to  outscorch  its  predecessor.  Bursting 
at  dawn  from  bloody  mists,  a  flaming  sun  poured 
liquid  fire  upon  a  brazen  earth,  baked  it  to  a  crackle 
through  the  long  hours,  then  left  it  to  stew  in  dark 
ness,  and  render  night  hideous  with  emanations  of 
superabundant  heat.  The  band  that  fell  through 
the  open  door  across  the  floor  glowed  like  the  aurora 
of  a  furnace.  Motes  sizzled  like  sparks  from  white- 
hot  metal  in  the  bars  which  rifted  through  the  pole 
siding,  and  when  in  its  slow  crawl  across  the  shadow 
one  of  these  touched  David's  boot  he  moved  his 
foot  from  the  burning  heat.  Though  he  was  wearing 
the  thinnest  of  cambric  camisas  it  showed  wet  in 
patches,  and  he  paused  often  to  mop  his  streaming 
face;  but  having  granted  his  parboiled  complexion 
to  the  heat,  it  required  other  explanation  to  account 
for  a  certain  embarrassed  look  about  his  eyes. 

137 


THE    PLANTER 

"Confound  it!"  he  muttered,  between  moppings. 
"Why  didn't  I  come  in  the  other  way?" 

The  question  referred  to  the  path  which  led  in 
from  the  smothered  rubber  that,  in  accordance  with 
Hertzer's  advice,  was  now  cleared  and  burned  off 
in  readiness  for  a  second  planting  at  the  coming  of 
the  rains.  As  it  ran  in  the  scorched  open  he  had 
returned  this  morning  by  a  longer  way  which  fol 
lowed  the  river  through  thick  jungle,  had  been  saunt 
ering  along  in  full  enjoyment  of  the  palm  shade,  when 
a  turn  of  that  treacherous  path  about  a  huge  saber 
brought  him  plump  upon  Andrea  at  her  ablutions. 

Viewed  in  the  abstract,  here  was  really  no  cause 
of  perturbation.  He  had  already  learned  that  in 
the  tierra  caliente  moral  issues  are  not  concealed  by 
clothes,  that  Virtue,  where  found,  is  likely  to  be  going 
in  her  own  golden  skin.  If  startled  when  first  he 
came  on  one  of  his  enganchadas  pounding  her  single 
chemisette  on  a  river  bowlder,  he  had  grown  to  their 
innocent  nudity  and  now  passed  it  daily  with  that 
indifference  which  neither  looks  nor  turns  away. 
Why,  then,  his  embarrassment?  Standing,  a  bronze 
naiad  by  the  water's  edge,  quiet  and  unconcerned, 
the  girl  had  given  him  the  usual  "  Buenos  -dias"  as 
she  stooped  for  her  chemisette.  So  far  all  was  proper, 
in  perfect  accord  with  heated  conventions,  and  had 
he  walked  on  she  would  undoubtedly  have  continued 
her  toilet  with  perfect  indifference.  But  whether  or 
no  his  paralysis  was  due  to  a  sudden  revelation  that 
the  enganchadas,  gaunt  and  labor -worn,  were  not 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

such  as  tempt  the  sin  of  the  eye,  he  stood  stock-still 
until,  glancing  up,  she  caught  his  red  embarrassment. 
For  a  moment  she  stared,  surprised,  then,  just  as  he 
turned  to  retreat,  disappeared  under  a  flash  of  white. 
And  now  in  the  pauses  of  his  summing  he  groaned 
over  that  fatal  hesitation,  mixing  regret  with  wonder 
that  the  morality  of  clothes  should  be  so  infectious. 

"If  you'd  only  gone  on,"  he  grinned,  through  set 
teeth,  "she'd  never  have  given  you  a  second  thought. 
But  now  —  how  the  dickens  am  I  to  face  her  at 
lunch?" 

Reading  no  answer  in  the  cook-house  drone,  he 
returned  to  his  column,  only  to  leave  it  again  as  the 
figures  merged  in  a  vivid  picture  —  a  nude  bronze, 
bediamonded  with  liquid  jewels,  rising  from  flashing 
waters  beyond  black  palm  shade.  Time  and  again 
the  persistent  vision  brought  anarchy  into  his  calcu 
lations,  and  something  other  than  chagrin  was  re 
sponsible  when  next  he  groaned.  It  told  that  heat, 
insects,  smothered  rubber,  and  labor  problems  were 
dwindling  into  insignificance  beside  this  new  factor 
in  his  fight  with  Cancer. 

"Ole!  Don  David!"  A  clear  voice  interrupted  his 
next  bout  with  the  figures,  and  two  letters  floated  one 
after  the  other  down  the  band  of  sunshine.  "They 
came  up-river  with  our  maize.  Don't  you  think  I  am 
kind  to  bring  them  over  this  hot  day?" 

As  she  leaned  over  her  horse's  neck  to  peep  in, 
the  ripple  in  Patricia's  hair  flamed  into  burning  gold ; 
her  rich  face  burst  in  like  the  sun  on  David's  dark 


THE    PLANTER 

mood.  "After  you  have  left  us  alone  for  a  whole 
month?"  she  went  on,  with  mock  complaint.  "And 
even  now  you  don't  ask  me  to  come  in.  I  had  in 
tended  to  stay  for  lunch,  but  now  I  shall  ride  on  to 
Ewing's." 

He  had  waited  only  to  pick  up  the  letters,  and  the 
threat  brought  him  hurrying  out.  "Oh,  if  you 
would?" 

"What?     Ride  on?" 

"No,  no!     Stay  to  lunch." 

If  a  little  surprised  at  his  fervency,  she  had  no 
way  of  connecting  it  with  Andrea — who  had  come 
to  her  kitchen  door — so  gave  it  her  own  interpreta 
tion.  "So  you  are  human.  I  was  beginning  to  doubt 
it,"  she  added,  as  he  lifted  her  down. 

"As  bad  as  that?"  he  laughed.  Indeed,  in  his 
relief  at  escaping  the  impending  tete-&-tete  with  An 
drea,  he  bubbled  over.  "Oh,  come!  You  know  I 
have  been  very  busy,  and — " 

"You  quarrelled  with  father,"  she  frankly  supplied. 
"But  that  doesn't  excuse  your  boycotting  me.  I 
think  you  are  a  bear." 

"Better  that  than  a  bore.  You  see,  if  I  had 
come — " 

"I  might  have  wished  you  away?"  She  looked 
him  over,  mockingly  serious.  "We — 11,  perhaps." 

His  laugh  carried  back  to  Andrea,  whose  bronze 
took  a  deeper  shade  when  he  called  for  her  to  set 
an  extra  platilla.  There  was,  however,  no  trace  of 
anger  in  her  quiet  service  an  hour  later.  She  re- 

140 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

turned  glib  thanks  to  Patricia's  compliments  upon 
her  tortillas;  accorded  stealthy  servility  to  conde 
scensions  so  arrogant  in  their  assumption  of  infinite 
superiority  that  they  roused  David's  wonder  while 
helping  him  to  regain  his  lost  control.  His  embar 
rassment  faded  in  the  face  of  her  subserviency;  he 
could  eye  her  steadily  before  the  end  of  the  meal; 
was  master  of  himself  and  the  situation  when  Patricia 
rose  to  go. 

"Your  letters!"  she  cried,  as  they  walked  to  the 
stable.  "You  never  even  looked  at  them." 

"Your  fault,"  he  laughed.  " One  from  my  mother, 
too.  It  will  keep  till  I  see  you  away." 

But  with  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  head  she  sat  down 
on  a  log  at  the  stable  door.  "No,  sefior,  you  will 
read  it  now."  And  she  looked  out  over  the  river  till 
recalled  by  his  whistle. 

"Anything  wrong?"  He  repeated  her  question. 
"Listen  to  this." 

Opening  with  Kate  Somers's  approaching  marriage, 
his  mother  followed  up  two  pages  of  condolences 
with  a  vivid  description  of  a  pilgrimage  she  and  Kate 
had  taken  in  search  of  a  house,  nor  seemed  to  have 
imagined  apology  necessary  for  comfort  and  coun 
tenance  thus  tended  to  those  who  had  put  a  blight 
on  her  son's  affections.  Ensued  six  pages  of  church 
news — picnics,  socials,  the  luck  of  a  revival  in  adding 
Mr.  Osgood  to  the  roster.  Then,  after  three  pages 
of  inquiries  and  cautions  concerning  David's  health, 
the  usual  momentous  postscript,  which  he  read  aloud : 

141 


THE    PLANTER 

"You  remember  you  were  to  have  wired  me  if  the  plan 
tation  did  not  come  up  to  your  expectations,  and  as  you 
neither  wired  nor  wrote,  I  felt  perfectly  safe  in  taking  a  spe 
cial  offer  of  Mr.  Osgood's.  I  have  bought  five  hundred  shares 
of  Verda  stock." 

"Five  hundred  shares!"  Patricia  gasped.  "That 
is—" 

"Fifty  thousand  — gold,"  David  groaned.  "The 
bulk  of  her  fortune." 

"But  why  didn't  you  wire  her?" 

"I  did — sent  it  out  by  the  moso  who  piloted  me 
in." 

"And  of  course  you  gave  him  money  to  pay  for 
it?  That  accounts  for  it.  You  ought  to  have  writ 
ten  as  well." 

He  almost  blurted  out  that  he  had,  but  stopped 
as  he  remembered  the  circumstances  attending  the 
writing,  stricken  by  sudden  doubt.  "  Well,  it's  done," 
he  said,  instead.  "The  other  is  from  Osgood.  Let's 
see  what  he  has  to  say." 

It  was  not  much.  In  view  of  recent  additions 
to  the  company's  capital  (David  grunted)  Mr.  Os 
good  felt  himself  justified  in  giving  Mr.  David  a 
"raise"  of  fifty  dollars  per  mensem.  In  addition, 
the  plantation  working  allowance  would  be  substan 
tially  increased;  with  which  larger  funds  at  his  dis 
posal  the  company  would  expect  larger  results  and 
good  reports — especially  the  latter. 

"  It's  a  bribe!"  David  snorted.     "  I  shall  refuse  it." 

"I  wouldn't,"  Patricia  commented.  "It's  your 
142 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

own  money.  I'd  ask  him  for  more.  He  wouldn't 
dare  to  refuse  you — just  yet." 

"  I  could  do  more  for  the  men,"  he  mused.  "  Well, 
I'll  think  it  over,"  and  he  turned  again  to  the  letter, 
which  closed  with  an  allusion  to  his  mother's  invest 
ment.  Mr.  David  would  be  pleased  to  know  that  it 
had  been  made  on  a  special  plan  which  called  for 
half-yearly  dividends  instead  of  the  usual — 

"Paid  out  of  her  own  capital,"  the  girl  dryly  in 
terrupted.  "Well" — as  she  paused,  musing,  there 
flashed  upon  her  face  the  hard  look  of  her  father,  a 
resemblance  fleeting  as  the  thought  which  called  it 
into  being — "well,  you're  the  biggest  stockholder,  and, 
being  here  on  hand,  it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you 
don't  get  a  little  more  than  your  own." 

He  glanced  up  quickly,  but  irritable  disgust  died 
under  her  frankly  innocent  look.  She  was  not  to 
blame  for  her  moral  obliquities,  and  he  said,  quietly: 
"If  I  ever  get  my  own  I  shall  have  to  recreate  it." 

She  nodded,  and  while  he  brought  out  and  bridled 
her  horse  she  watched  him  with  a  curiosity  that  was 
at  variance  with  her  next  remark.  "I  wouldn't  take 
it  to  heart.  Saddle  up  and  come  over  to  Ewing's 
with  me." 

Felt  or  no,  he  kindled  to  the  spoken  sympathy. 
"I'd  love  to,  but  I'm  writing  my  first  report  to  go 
down  by  canoe  to-night.  It  will  take  most  of  the 
afternoon,  but  I'll  be  ready  when  you  come  back 
and  ride  with  you  part  of  the  way  home." 

"Will  you,  really?"  His  eyes  were  on  the  bridle, 
M3 


THE    PLANTER 

his  thoughts  on  his  letters,  so  he  did  not  notice  the 
sarcasm.  As  he  arranged  her  stirrup,  she  went  on: 
"Very  well,  senor.  In  just  four  hours  I  shall  be 
yours."  And  not  until  she  was  beyond  ear-shot  in 
the  jungle  did  she  free  her  laughter.  "He  will  go 
part  of  the  way,  Patricia!  Only  part!" 

Meanwhile,  back  at  the  store,  David  had  fallen 
again  into  frowning  meditation.  Capable  of  turning 
a  brave  face  to  the  accidental  stroke  of  fortune,  this 
was  the  harder  to  bear  because  he  knew  it  for  the 
direct  result  of  a  double  treachery.  His  letter  might, 
of  course,  have  miscarried.  But  though  he  tried  to 
give  Hertzer  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  he  felt  him  to 
be  quite  capable  of  its  destruction,  and  was  surprised 
only  at  the  audacious  refinement  on  his  revenge  when, 
a  few  days  later,  the  letter  was  returned  with  an  apol 
ogy  to  the  effect  that  it  had  just  been  found  in  a  for 
gotten  pocket.  And  Mr.  Osgood's  motive  in  sending 
him  down  to  Verda  now  stood  out  as  under  a  calcium 
spot  —  the  clearer  because  disgust  at  Kate's  engage 
ment  had  killed  the  last  vestige  of  the  calf-love  which 
had  rendered  him  helpless  as  the  animal  itself  in  the 
hands  of  a  butcher. 

"I  was  a  fool!"  he  raged — "a  blind,  puling,  sen 
timental  fool!"  Nor  would  his  anger  permit  him  to 
advance  in  mitigation  the  conspiracy  of  events  which 
had  guided  what  must  be  conceded  an  exceedingly 
long  shot,  on  the  part  of  the  financier,  plump  into  the 
bull's-eye. 

Snatching  his  pen  he  dashed  off  two  letters,  either 
144 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

of  which  would,  if  delivered,  have  brought  this  story 
to  a  traditional  end  by  securing  his  return  to  his 
native  heath.  The  writing,  however,  opened  an  out 
let  for  his  anger,  permitted  cooler  reflection.  He 
had  nothing  to  gain,  either  by  frightening  his  mother 
or  antagonizing  the  financier.  "I'll  stick  by  it  till 
my  time  comes,"  he  muttered,  at  last;  and  while  the 
second  letter  to  his  mother  was  based  on  cheerful  ac 
ceptance  of  the  situation,  the  envelope  to  the  finan 
cier  contained  only  his  formal  report. 

He  had  just  sealed  the  latter  when  the  clear  call 
sounded  again  without  the  door.  "Ole,  Don  David! 
Faithless!  Already  he  has  forgotten  his  promise  to 
escort  me  part  of  the  way." 

Not  to  mention  the  premeditated  mischief  in  her 
eye,  the  accent  ought  to  have  given  him  abundant 
warning,  but  his  mind  was  still  on  his  letters.  His 
preoccupation  went  with  him  past  the  cook-house — 
where  Patricia's  character  was  undergoing  thorough 
revision  at  Rafaela's  able  hands — through  the  blister 
ing  heat  of  the  clearing  into  the  dank  shade  of  the 
first  morass;  and  by  the  time  he  was  able  to  shake  it 
off,  soft  solicitude  had  replaced  the  lurking  deviltry  in 
her  look. 

In  this  dry  time  it  was  possible  for  two  to  ride 
abreast,  and,  reining  in  so  that  he  could  come  along 
side,  she  gave  him  the  full  benefit  of  big,  dewy  eyes 
at  a  range  of  a  yard.  "I  was  thinking  of  your  mis 
fortune  all  the  time  that  I  was  away." 

He  flushed  in  his  surprise,  but  gratefully  answered : 


THE    PLANTER 

"That  was  awfully  kind.  But  please  don't  worry  on 
my  account.  I'm  almost  glad  of  it." 

"Why?" 

Under  stimulation  of  her  pleased  interest  he  told 
of  his  coddled  youth,  desire  to  make  his  own  way, 
finishing:  "  I  have  always  wanted  to  hoe  my  own  row, 
but  hoeing  is  tiresome,  and  if  a  fellow  has  too  much 
money  there's  always  the  temptation  to  quit." 

"But  won't  you  find  it  dull  here?"  she  asked 
again. 

It  is  possible  that  he  might  have  disarmed  her  with 
a  significant  "How  could  I?"  But,  deceived  by  her 
sympathy,  he  blurted  instead  a  declaration  of  war 
against  Cancer;  talked  improved  labor  conditions, 
regeneration  of  plantations,  when  he  ought  to  have 
been  admiring  her  eyes;  held  forth  with  such  lengthy 
enthusiasm  that  they  were  a  mile  or  two  beyond 
Phelps's  place  before  he  finished  where  he  ought  to 
have  begun. 

"Then  life  here  has  its  compensations." 

"Yes?"  she  said,  innocently.     "For  instance?" 

"It  is  romantic.  Instead  of  driving  a  prosaic  quill 
in  a  law  office,  here  I  am  riding  through  a  tropical  jun 
gle  with—" 

"With?" 

Her  smile  brought  his  gallantry  from  under  eclipse. 
"The  most  beautiful  girl  in  Mexico." 

"Including  the  Seftorita  Consuela?"  she  demanded, 
laughing. 

The  girl  of  the  train  was  a  long  way  off,  and  youth 
146 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

is  faithful  to  fascinating  jnemories  only  in  tales. 
"Including  the  Senorita  Consuela." 

An  orchid  thrust  a  tongue  of  fire  from  the  mould 
of  a  decaying  tree,  and,  pointing,  she  said:  "For  that, 
senor,  you  shall  fasten  a  flower  in  my  hair." 

His  first  essay  in  such  delicate  business,  a  little 
bungling  was  perfectly  natural,  and,  squirming  round 
under  his  hands,  she  laughed  up  in  his  face.  "I'm 
sure  it  is  wrong,  and  I  have  no  glass.  Oh,  I  know! 
Bend  your  head  —  closer  —  now  I  can  see  myself  in 
your  eyes." 

What  a  position  for  sober  David!  Her  breath 
fanned  his  cheek,  the  subtle  perfume  of  her  hair  filled 
his  nostrils.  From  a  few  inches  his  eyes  looked  into 
hers,  which  shone  wide  and  clear  as  pools  of  translu 
cent  amber.  Slightly  parted,  her  red  lips  were  raised 
invitingly.  He  was  aware  of  her  figure  pulsing  its 
vivid  life  through  every  swell  and  curvature.  Then, 
as  though  the  temptation  were  not  enough,  a  move 
ment  of  his  beast  crushed  him  against  her.  His 
hands  were  still  trembling  in  her  hair,  but  as  the  con 
tact  sent  a  flame  through  his  veins  they  dropped  to 
her  waist.  Stricken  with  sudden  blindness,  his  lips 
went  searching;  then — her  beast  bounded  under  her 
spur  and  he  was  almost  thrown  to  the  ground. 

"No,  Davidito  mia !"  Her  voice  came  out  of  a  cloud 
of  dust  at  the  next  turn.  "You  were  to  see  me  only 
fart  of  the  way,  and  this  is  the  La  Luna  boundary." 

Recovering  his  balance  with  a  violent  effort,  David 
curbed  his  beast,  which  had  started  to  run,  where- 


THE    PLANTER 

in  he  violated  a  well  -  known  tradition  of  Romance. 
Your  hardy  lover  would  have  given  the  horse  his  head 
and  have  taken  his  kiss  on  the  run,  at  the  hazard  of 
the  damsel's  neck — not  to  mention  his  own.  But  a 
chicken  does  not  bring  spurs  and  comb  from  the  egg, 
and  David  had,  metaphorically  speaking,  just  stepped 
out  of  the  incubator.  So,  while  it  is  true  that  he 
felt  the  impulse,  he  just  sat  his  beast  and  stared 
while  his  expression  ran  the  gamut  through  surprise, 
anger,  to  grinning  shame.  Davidito  (Little  David) ! 
It  really  was  absurd! 

"Well,"  he  breathed,  at  last,  "you  were  looking 
for  it,  and  you  got  it."  To  which  popular  expression 
of  mortification  he  added,  as  he  rode  slowly  back 
toward  Phelps's  place:  "You  darned  fool!  If  ever 
a  puppy  needed  a  hiding  it  is  you." 

Arrived  at  the  Englishman's  boundary  he  had 
choice  of  two  trails,  and  whereas,  yesterday,  he  would 
surely  have  taken  the  one  around  the  clearing,  he 
now  rode  on  to  the  house;  a  small  matter  on  the 
surface,  yet  significant  in  view  of  his  thought — "I 
think  you've  been  a  bit  of  a  prig" — and  which  all  goes 
to  prove  that  the  discovery  of  a  mote  in  one's  own 
eye  inclines  to  charitable  measurement  of  the  beam 
in  that  of  our  neighbor.  In  David's  present  mood 
said  foreshortening  went  the  length  of  acceptance 
when  Phelps,  who  was  taking  the  cool  under  his  ve 
randa,  insisted  on  his  putting  in  for  supper. 

"I  had  about  concluded  that  you  had  put  me  on 
the  black-list  with  Hertzer,"  the  Englishman  said, 

148 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

as  he  led  in-doors.  "But  better  late  than  never; 
and  I'm  awfully  glad  you  came,  for  I'm  feeling  blue 
to-night.  No,  not  ill — just  plain  homesick.  We  all 
take  it  at  times — except  Hertzer,  who  never  had  a 
regret  in  his  life  or  a  longing  that  he  couldn't  satisfy 
— and  in  these  latitudes  you  get  it  hard.  Though 
you  would  think  it  ought  to  aggravate  the  disease,  I 
have  found  a  good  jab-fest  about  old  times  to  be  the 
best  cure;  works  on  the  same  principle,  I  suppose,  as 
the  old  recommendation  to  'Take  a  hair  of  the  dog 
that  bit  you.'  Of  course  it's  pretty  hard  on  the 
listener,  but" — he  nodded,  laughing,  at  the  door — 
"your  remedy  is  always  in  sight." 

If  there  were  any  virtue  in  the  prescription  it  should 
surely  have  worked  his  cure,  for  talk  he  did — of  gray 
spires  and  nodding  trees,  the  caw  of  rooks  around 
hoary  gables,  green  lanes  and  smiling  fields  of  Merrie 
England.  While  his  children  played  about  the  mud 
floor,  and  his  Tehuana  wife  gravitated  between  the 
table  and  a  glowing  charcoal  brasero,  he  harked  back 
to  ancient  Oxford  with  its  'Varsity  boat-races,  proc 
tors,  and  dons,  interspersing  lively  narrations  of 
rows  between  Town  and  Gown  with  reminiscences 
of  smoky  London.  Old  Drury,  the  Haymarket,  the 
Empire,  Irving  and  his  Lyceum,  roaring  night  life 
of  the  brilliant  Strand;  as  the  magic  names  ran  off 
his  tongue  his  eyes  sparkled  in  the  dusk  of  that  trop 
ical  hut  like  fog-bound  lights  of  the  great  city.  Above 
the  odor  of  garlic  and  stewing  frijoles  his  dilated  nos 
trils  seemed  to  sniff  the  smoke  of  far-off  Piccadilly. 

149 


THE   PLANTER 

"Man!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  can  see  it  lying  low 
in  the  parks  on  a  winter's  evening!  What  wouldn't 
I  give  for  a  single  whiff!" 

Running  on  as  he  did,  without  pause  for  question 
or  comment,  David  was  left  free  to  watch  the  Tehuana, 
who  on  his  entering  had  extended  the  usual  musical 
welcome.  Taller  than  Hertzer's  woman,  her  feat 
ures  were  finer  cut  without  loss  of  the  characteristic 
brooding  maternity.  Apparently  absorbed  in  her 
cookery,  he  saw  her  deep  eyes  turn  constantly  to 
Phelps  with  sympathy  and  understanding.  Ignorant 
of  English,  he  felt  that  she  intuitively  sensed  the 
invisible  threads  that  pulled  with  the  strength  of 
cables,  and  when,  picking  up  little  Felice,  she  placed 
her  on  Phelps's  knee,  the  unconscious  pathos  of  the 
action  caused  him  a  stab  of  pain.  Sensitized  by 
weeks  of  loneliness,  he  realized  that  upon  one  side 
at  least  something  other  than  passion  underlay  this 
primitive  union;  that  it  was  sanctified  by  that  sacri 
ficial  love  which  is  the  essence  of  marriage.  He  saw 
— and  the  vision  came  as  a  great  temptation — that 
with  all  his  homesickness  Phelps  would  escape,  that 
night,  the  dreary  solitude  that  always  entered  with 
him  into  his  own  dark  hut. 

"Sorry  you  can't  stay  all  night,  old  man,"  the 
Englishman  said  as  David  rose  to  go.  "It's  rather 
dark  just  now,  but  you'll  have  a  good  moon  in  an 
other  quarter  of  an  hour.  They  tell  me  that  you  are 
doing  fine  over  there,"  he  went  on  while  David  was 
mounting.  "Burned  off  all  your  smothered  rubber? 

150 


THE  TROPICS  VS.  NEW  ENGLAND 

Good  work,  and  not  a  bit  too  soon.     We  can  look 
any  day  for  the  rains." 

His  cheery  good-night  followed  David  in  among 
the  buildings,  through  whose  bird-cage  siding  he 
caught  the  red  glow  of  braseros.  The  galera,  with 
its  fetor  and  lanterns,  made  a  blur  on  the  dusk,  then 
a  smoky  flare  of  many  fires  showed  him  Phelps's 
enganchadas  still  at  work  in  the  cook-house.  The 
twang  of  a  guitar  from  the  mandador's  quarters  went 
with  him  into  the  jungle,  where  he  rode  in  pitch  dark 
ness  through  an  ocean  of  sound — whistle  of  beetles, 
scream  of  quarrelling  birds,  incessant  buzz  of  insects. 
But  these  died  when  the  moon  rose,  and  as,  there 
after,  he  rode  from  black  shadow  in  and  out  of  splash 
ing  moonlight,  there  came  only  an  occasional  strangled 
roar  to  set  his  horse  a-tremble. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  he  heard  it,  so  busy  was  he 
with  his  thoughts:  the  embarrassing  rencounter 
with  Andrea,  his  bad  home  news,  Patricia's  trick,  the 
glimpse  of  Phelps's  home  life,  each  had  its  turn,  and, 
travelling  around  the  circle,  the  last  brought  him 
back  to  the  first  as  he  rode  into  the  Verda  clearing. 

The  plantation  slept.  Dark  and  silent,  the  conical 
roofs  uprose  like  so  many  straw  beehives  gleaming 
faintly  yellow  in  the  tender  light.  His  glance  went 
first  to  his  own  house,  and  in  vivid  contrast  to  its 
solitary  darkness  there  came  flashing  into  his  mind 
a  picture  of  the  Tehuana  under  the  red  light  of  her 
brasero,  the  warmth,  love,  passion  of  maternity  in 
her  soft  eyes.  Then  it  wandered  to  the  kitchen 


THE   PLANTER 

where  Andrea  not  only  cooked,  but  also  lived,  slept, 
and  otherwise  had  her  comely  being.  Then  —  up 
flashed  the  reverse  of  the  picture.  Once  more  he 
saw  Phelps's  eyes  sparkling  under  iiis  high,  peaked 
forehead  as  he  talked  of  home  and  country  in  com 
plete  forget  fulness  of  the  girl-child  in  his  arms. 

With  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  head  he  rode  on  to 
the  stable. 


XI 

CANCER    SWINGS,   AND 

A  "NORTHER"  brought  the  rains,  a  mighty  wind 
that  bellowed  among  the  palms  and  screamed 
through  the  bejuca  tangle,  that  uprooted  trees,  beat 
and  bullied  the  jungle  till  it  roared  with  a  thousand 
voices.  From  a  high  knoll  David  overlooked  its  vast 
torture,  squirming  life;  watched  it  leap  and  toss,  an 
ocean  of  pain,  with  infinite  writhings;  saw  the  great 
waves  sweep  from  his  feet  around  tall  tree  islands 
to  break  on  far  reefs  of  brown  cedars — watched  till 
his  stunned  ear  refused  further  commerce  with  the 
clamor,  and  silence  came  as  a  surprise  with  the  pat 
tering  rain. 

A  hundred  inches'  precipitation  in  three  months 
can  hardly  be  termed  a  Scotch  mist.  By  the  time 
one-quarter  had  fallen  it  seemed  to  David  that  the 
Gulf  must  have  joined  hands  with  the  Pacific  across 
the  Tehuantepec  isthmus.  Instead  of  paths,  canals 
connected  the  lakes  which  flowed  over  the  morasses. 
A  boil  of  yellow  waters,  the  river  ran  outside  its 
banks,  bearing  a  scum  of  dead  wood,  trees,  drowned 
cattle  and  pigs,  acres  of  greenery  —  sweepings  of  a 

153 


THE    PLANTER 

hundred  miles  of  jungle  and  many  an  Indian  village. 
Yet  was  there  no  cess  of  the  rain.  Day  after  day  it 
slanted  in  warm  sheets  upon  the  sweltering  earth, 
for  behind  its  wet  veil  burned  the  July  sun,  and  did 
the  clouds  break  for  one  minute  the  firmament  in 
stantly  filled  with  steam  that  soft-cooked  David  and 
his  men  at  work  replanting  the  burned  acreage  in 
this  the  tropical  seed-time. 

It  was  tiresome  as  well  as  wet  work.  "Don't  let 
your  men  drop  seed,"  Hertzer  had  warned  him. 
"They'll  either  miss  holes  or  plant  it  too  deep,  and 
though  gaps  can  be  filled  from  the  nursery,  the  plants 
are  never  as  thrifty."  So  while  the  gangs  punched 
holes  in  the  oozy  soil,  he  dropped  the  seed,  three  to  a 
place,  to  be  afterward  thinned  to  a  single  plant. 
For  a  month  he  hardly  straightened  his  stiff  back, 
and  what  of  the  water  that  poured  from  his  face  and 
neck  off  the  end  of  his  nose,  that  feature  felt  sore  and 
began  to  look  like  a  worn  cathedral  gargoyle.  And 
from  the  streaming  fields  he  came  in  at  night  to  a  hut 
that  was  almost  as  wet  from  rain  that  had  driven 
through  the  pole  siding.  Could  his  mother  have  seen 
these  damp  cloths  he  called  his  sheets! 

If  he  had  yearned  for  hardening  experience,  the 
quantity  supplied  so  far  exceeded  the  specifications 
that  it  is  hardly  a  matter  of  wonder  that  his  night 
thoughts  should  sometimes  turn  enviously  to  Ewing 
in  his  comfortable  bungalow,  to  Phelps  whose  hut 
boasted  a  mud  fireplace.  It  required  no  more  strain 
of  the  imagination  for  him  to  see  Ewing's  pretty 

iS4 


CANCER   SWINGS,    AND  — 

little  wife  airing  him  a  change  of  garments  than  to 
picture  the  Tehuana  moving  on  similar  errands  for 
Phelps.  Nor  is  it  surprising  that  when  contrasted 
with  his  own  wet  cheerlessness,  the  comfort  of  these 
Sybarites  should  appear  as  an  attribute  of  the  married 
state  inseparable  from  the  feminine  presence ;  thoughts 
which  explain  his  silent  assent  to  the  innovation  when 
one  evening  he  found  that  Andrea  had  set  his  supper 
out  in  her  kitchen. 

"It  was  so  wet  in  the  cabin,  seflor,"  she  pleaded, 
when  he  looked  in  from  the  sloppy  dusk  between  the 
huts — quite  unnecessarily.  Besides  the  inevitable 
brasero,  the  kitchen  contained  Meagher's  old  cooking- 
stove,  and  while  changing  his  things  for  others  only 
a  shade  less  damp — their  condition  may  be  gauged 
by  the  fact  that  his  cake  of  Pears'  soap  had  melted 
on  the  stand  —  he  could  hear  the  stove's  roaring 
welcome,  catch  a  glint  of  crockery  under  the  gold  of 
the  lamp,  sniff  a  savory  stew.  To  exclude  the  damp 
air  Andrea  had  hung  zarapes  around  the  walls,  with 
which  bright  background  it  required  only  herself  in 
spotless  chemisette,  crimson  skirt,  to  complete  the 
picture  of  homely  comfort. 

He  ate  luxuriously  that  evening,  and  as,  drawing 
thereafter  into  a  corner  by  the  stove,  he  watched  her 
at  her  household  duties,  he  absorbed  other  than  the 
heat.  His  starved  senses  fed  on  the  multitude  of 
subtleties  which  go  to  make  up  the  feminine  atmos 
phere  that  men  feel  but  do  not  recognize  till  removed 
from  its  sphere.  His  eyes  followed  the  hand  and 


THE    PLANTER 

smooth  arm  that  went  repeatedly  to  her  hair.  He 
watched  the  velvet  lashes  sweep  down  till  they 
brushed  the  red  health  under  her  bronze;  the  easy 
flexures  of  her  supple  body.  He  bathed  in  her  pres 
ence,  an  indulgence  none  the  less  dangerous  because 
unconscious,  and  which  was  rendered  still  more  so 
by  a  veneer  of  refinement  that  overlaid  her  vigorous 
animality,  that  courtesy  of  manner  and  tone  native 
in  all  who  speak  the  Spanish  tongue.  Simulating 
modesty,  it  put  him  at  ease,  left  him  free  to  laugh 
at  the  plantation  gossip  which  she  retailed  with 
girlish  humor.  And  if  she  gave  him  laughter  for 
laughter,  responding  with  a  vivacity  one  would 
never  have  expected  from  the  obsequious  creature 
who  had  cringed  to  Patricia,  she  governed  herself 
with  such  skill  that  he  never  noticed  when  she  quietly 
rubbed  out  the  line  between  master  and  servant. 

The  obliteration  occurred  after  a  correction  of  his 
Spanish.  "Mi  padre  esta  muerte,"  he  said,  telling 
her  that  his  father  was  dead.  Then  he  stared,  rather 
shocked  by  her  laughter,  until  she  explained  that  his 
wrong  usage  of  the  verb  implied  that  Mr.  Mann, 
senior,  was  merely  temporarily  dead,  and  might  be 
expected  to  resurrect  at  any  moment. 

The  remark  itself  was  intended  to  correct  a  mis 
conception  of  hers  that  his  father  must  be  actively 
engaged  in  the  company  management,  but  she  fol 
lowed  in  through  the  opening  to  his  home  life  with 
a  question  concerning  his  mother  —  "She  is  alive, 
senor?" 

156 


CANCER    SWINGS,  AND  — 

It  was  none  of  her  business,  but  what  with  her  de 
ceptive  courtesy,  he  not  only  answered,  but  presently 
found — rather  to  his  own  surprise — that  he  was  tell 
ing  her  all  about  his  home.  "And  the  senorita?"  she 
asked,  when  he  suddenly  paused. 

"The  senorita?"  he  repeated,  puzzled.  "I  have  no 
sister." 

"No.     She  whom  you  love?" 

"I!"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  surprise.  It  was  incon 
ceivable  that  she  could  know  anything  of  Kate,  yet 
she  shook  her  head  when  he  began:  "If  you  mean 
the  Senorita  Hertzer— " 

"No.     The  Americano  in  your  own  land." 

Once  more  Kate  flashed  into  his  mind — to  be  again 
ejected.  Then,  curious  about  her  thought,  he  asked: 
"What  makes  you  think  that  I  am  in  love?" 

"You  are  different  from  the  others." 

"The  others?     Whom?" 

"The  Senors  Hertzer,  Phelps — all  the  Americanos 
on  this  river." 

"How?" 

She  paused,  meditating,  eyes  turned  down  on  the 
chemisette  she  was  ironing  for  to-morrow's  wear. 
Thud  of  an  iron  pressing  hot  linen  under  golden  lamp 
light — here  is  the  quintessence  of  housewifery;  and 
while  his  eyes  followed  her  easy  flexures  as  her  weight 
moved  with  the  iron,  subconsciousness  took  cogni 
zance  of  the  fact  and  added  its  force  to  her  answer: 
"You  have  no  woman." 

As  aforesaid,  David's  eyes  had  already  opened  to 


THE    PLANTER 

her  part  in  his  problem.  But  whereas,  hitherto,  he 
had  studied  it  through  the  big  end  of  the  telescope, 
which  thrust  her  back  into  the  distance,  she  had  turn 
ed  the  glass  for  him  and  now  loomed  within  reach  of 
his  hand.  As  modest  as  he  was  sober,  there  was  no 
misreading  the  steady  meditation  in  her  glance;  yet 
if  it  caused  the  blood  to  leap  to  his  face  his  answer 
was  firmly  serious. 

"No,  I  have  no  woman." 

"Then  you  are  in  love?" 

"Perhaps.  Why  not?"  Yet,  despite  his  smile,  he 
winced  at  a  sudden  realization  that  he  had  uncon 
sciously  put  it  forward  as  a  protection. 

"What  is  her  name?"  Her  question  came  steadily 
as  the  thud  of  her  iron. 

"Consuela."  This  time  he  was  surprised  that  of 
all  possible  names  this  should  most  readily  slide  from 
his  tongue,  and  his  heightened  color  was  not  lost  by 
Andrea's  observant  eye. 

So  far  she  had  looked  doubtful.  Now  she  said: 
"Ah,  you  blush!  Then  you  are  really  in  love."  She 
quickly  added:  "But  Consuela  is  a  Spanish  name?" 

"We  use  many  Spanish  names  in  my  country," 
he  answered,  and  changed  the  subject.  "What's 
the  Spanish  for  iron,  Andrea?" 

Yet  no  change  of  subject  could  alter  the  fact  that 
from  a  negative  abstraction  in  thought  this  part  of 
his  problem  had  evolved  into  a  positive  temptation. 
The  knowledge  went  with  him  to  his  damp  bed  that 
night,  accompanied  him  next  day  to  the  dripping 

158 


CANCER   SWINGS,    AND  — 

fields,  loomed  always  thereafter  behind  the  veil  of 
waters,  ready  to  thrust  in  on  the  first  moment  of  re 
flection,  to  demand  an  answer  from  his  youth.  And 
if  it  was  not  given  at  once  the  delay  must  be  charged 
to  the  anxieties  that  suddenly  filled  his  mind  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  else. 

For  sickness  came  with  the  rains.  Though  he  did 
his  best  by  his  men,  providing  extra  clothing  from 
his  own  salary  to  enable  them  to  sleep  dry  at  night, 
though  he  gave  them  better  food,  and  care  such  as 
had  never  been  known  on  the  Isthmus,  he  could  not 
rebuild  broken  constitutions,  purify  blood  vitiated 
by  the  hoarded  vices  of  twenty  Spanish  generations. 
They  began  to  die  on  his  hands. 

First  went  Veinte-dos.  One  night  he  came  in  com 
plaining.  Morning  saw  him  shaking  with  calentura. 
He  died  in  a  week,  fulfilling  his  pledge  to  Hertzer. 
And  so  with  others.  "I  shall  die,  senor!  I  shall  die!" 
a  man  would  cry,  and  despite  quinine,  special  food, 
David's  careful  nursing,  die  he  would,  and  another 
mound  be  added  to  the  row  in  the  forest.  By  ones, 
then  twos,  occasionally  in  threes,  death  swept  them 
out  of  his  hands  until  it  seemed  to  him  that  return 
to  their  pais  (country)  alone  could  save  the  rem 
nant.  Yet  this  was  impossible.  The  work  had  to  go 
on;  for  while  they  were  planting  new  rubber,  the 
jungle  had  boiled  in  over  the  old  —now  swept,  a 
green  sea,  over  his  best  trees. 

Its  growth  was  unbelievable,  miraculous.  Slashing 
a  wild  platina  one  day,  Maria  Guadaloupe  had  David 

'59 


THE    PLANTER 

stand  by  while  the  succulent  stalk  put  forth  a  fresh 
shoot.  It  grew  half  an  inch  in  an  hour — vivid  type  of 
the  fecund  life  which  sprang  up  and  flowed  after  the 
gangs  even  as  they  swept  it  out  of  the  plantings. 
Always  it  hung  on  their  rear — creeping,  crawling,  a 
resistless  tide  that  claimed  at  night  the  ground  that 
day's  labor  had  paid  for  in  sweat  and  death.  It  got 
at  last  on  his  nerves — already  worn  by  a  touch  of 
malaria — loomed  in  his  imagination  as  a  huge  thug 
with  itching  fingers  eternally  stretched  at  the  throat 
of  his  rubber;  an  obsession  that,  leaving  the  campus 
at  night,  would  sometimes  cause  him  to  start,  as 
though  at  a  cry,  and  look  back  like  a  timid  pedestrian 
up  a  dark  street.  Withal  he  fought  it  yard  by  yard, 
foot  by  foot,  inch  by  inch;  fought  through  fevers, 
calenturas,  dysentery;  fought  it  under  the  frown  of 
Death  himself,  nor  paused  until  the  plantation  was 
clean  at  the  close  of  the  rains. 

Then,  as  a  man  from  a  nightmare,  he  awoke  from 
his  trance  of  labor  and  looked  about  him  to  count 
the  cost.  Having  thoroughly  weeded  that  fetid  gar 
den,  Death  had  passed  on,  leaving  seventeen  graves 
in  the  jungle.  Seventeen?  David  felt  like  a  mur 
derer — even  when  Phelps,  who  poled  up-stream  at  the 
first  slack-water,  laughed  in  his  serious  face. 

"Seventeen  out  of  sixty,  and  your  plantation  clean 
as  a  pin!"  the  Englishman  commented,  as  they  walked 
together  up  from  the  landing.  "Why,  I  lost  twenty- 
three  out  of  fifty,  and  my  rubber  is  drowned.  I 
shall  have  to  touch  my  people  for  an  extra  appropri- 

160 


CANCER   SWINGS,    AND  — 

ation.  You  got  off  cheaply,  my  dear  fellow.  Forget 
it.  It's  part  of  the  price  that  has  to  be  paid."  Hav 
ing  thus  testified  before  the  "God  of  Things  as  They 
Are,"  the  disciple  of  Kidd  dropped  into  a  tone  more 
befitting  the  homesick  Englishman  of  four  months 
ago.  "But  say,  old  chap,  you  are  looking  awfully 
seedy.  There's  nothing  left  of  you  but  jaw,  and  your 
eyes  are  all  glazed  over.  Taking  quinine  with  your 
coffee?  That's  right,  but  you  need  some  one  to  look 
after  you."  Grinning,  as  David  paused  to  unlock 
the  store  door,  he  added:  "I  had  expected  to  find 
you  settled  down  with  Andrea  to  comfortable  house 
keeping." 

Rightly  understood,  David's  quick  frown  indicated 
misgivings  of  his  own  rather  than  irritation  at  Phelps. 
If  intended  to  check  the  latter's  freedom,  it  would 
have  failed  in  any  case.  Always  eager  for  argument, 
he  sprang  to  pick  up  the  gage  of  battle.  "Why  not? 
It  would  be  perfectly  natural  and  proper,  as  the  con 
ventions  go  here.  Really,  I  should  have  thought 
you  would  have  learned  in  your  law  course  that  in 
stead  of  being  fixed  and  arbitrary  as  people  are  accus 
tomed  to  think  of  them,  morals  are  variable  as  the 
wind,  unstable  as  water — change  from  epoch  to  epoch, 
and  are  never  the  same  in  different  countries.  While 
Jacob,  the  father  of  Israel,  had  two  wives,  and  Solo 
mon,  its  king,  a  thousand,  our  custom  restricts  us  to 
one,  and  a  Roman  priest  is  bound  to  celibacy."  He 
was  going  on  in  his  school-masterly  fashion — "There 
can  be  only  one  test  for  morality:  its  effect  on  the 

161 


THE    PLANTER 

sum  of  human  happiness  ' ' — when  David  quietly  in 
terrupted. 

"In  all  its  consequences." 

"You  mean  the  children?"  Phelps  looked  up  from 
the  soap-box  on  which  he  had  just  seated  himself. 
Accepting  the  challenge,  he  ran  on:  "Socially,  the 
mixing  of  blood  is  good  for  the  race.  Your  Anglo- 
Saxon,  biggest-brained  and  most  warlike  of  all  types, 
sprang  from  a  heterogeneous  mixture  of  Romans, 
Normans,  Angles,  Saxons,  Celts — " 

' '  Monogamists  all . "  David  registered  a  second  quiet 
objection. 

"By  law,"  Phelps  corrected,  grinning.  "As  for 
their  practice,  read  Roman  history  and  study  the 
life  of  our  modern  cities.  A  minute!  I  know  what 
you  are  going  to  say.  In  spite  of  excesses,  the  mo- 
nogamic  law  preserves  the  family  and  conserves  the 
strength  of  the  nation.  It  does  —  has  done  it  for 
so  long  that  its  practice  has  become  instinctive  with 
the  Anglo-Saxon.  While  your  German,  Frenchman, 
Dutchman  intermarry  with  native  women  all  over 
the  world,  your  Anglo-Saxon — who  lives  as  freely  as 
any — refuses  to  darken  his  blood  by  legitimizing  his 
colored  children." 

"And  the  children?" 

Again  Phelps  accepted  the  challenge.  "I  was  just 
coming  to  it.  Take  Patricia.  Where  could  you  find 
a  healthier  or  handsomer  girl?  Some  day  she  will 
marry  a  planter,  and  her  legitimate  children  will  be 
none  the  worse  for  a  lick  of  the  blood." 

162 


CANCER   SWINGS,    AND  — 

"And  supposing  he  had  gone  away  when  she  was 
small?" 

"She'd  have  made  a  better  Indian.  No,  Mann, 
frankly,  I  don't  see  where  your  theory  lets  you  off, 
unless  you  believe  it  to  be  ordained.  And  even  then, 
if  Genesis  doesn't  lie,  God  saw  that  it  was  not  good 
for  man  to  be  alone,  and  the  commentators  haven't 
been  able  to  dig  up  anything  about  a  preacher  or 
license." 

Now,  though  David's  opportunities  toward  philos 
ophy  had  been  limited  as  his  mother  could  make  them 
— she  would  have  enclosed  him  in  a  ring  fence  be 
tween  Genesis  and  Revelations — he  had  found  time 
for  the  surreptitious  reading  of  several  agnostics — had 
even  dipped  his  immature  beak  in  the  polluted  foun 
tains  of  "the  arch-fiend  Ingersoll."  And  his  answer 
not  only  surprised  Phelps  by  its  breadth,  but  was 
significant  in  that  it  set  forth  thoughts  ripened  in 
the  fires  of  recent  experience.  "I  recognize  your 
logic,"  he  said,  slowly,  "and  almost  all  that  you  have 
said  had  occurred  to  me  before.  But  I'm  beginning 
to  doubt  whether  logic  has  anything  to  do  with 
questions  of  feeling.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  all  a 
matter  of  temperament.  You  are  born  with  certain 
instincts  that  are  trained  into  what  we  call  a  dispo 
sition,  and  the  quantities  are  so  varying  that  no  two 
act  alike  under  the  same  conditions.  Other  things 
being  equal,  the  whole  question  becomes  one  of  per 
sonal  viewpoint.  What  seems  right  to  you  may  be 
wrong  for  me,  and — " 


THE    PLANTER 

"New  England  morality  still  stands  the  strain," 
Phelps  laughed.  "Every  man  a  law  unto  himself, 
eh?  Well,  that's  fairly  broad  doctrine — we'll  let  it 
go  at  that."  Raising  quizzical  brows,  he  continued: 
"After  all,  there's  no  dogmatist  like  your  Tolerant. 
Instead  of  leaving  you  in  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  your 
uncomfortable  morals,  here  I  have  heckled  and  pecked 
you  until,  out  of  sheer  boredom,  you  are  driven  to 
take  a  complacent  view  of  my  own  slack  practice. 
To  change  the  subject,  have  you  seen  or  heard  any 
thing  of  Hertzer  lately?" 

"Haven't  seen  a  white  face  for  three  months." 
Phelps  nodded.  "Nor  I,  till  I  poled  down  to  La 
Luna  yesterday  to  try  and  borrow  frijoles.  Didn't 
get  them,  by- the- way,  and  if  you  can  spare  them  I 
shall  presently  touch  you  for  ten  arrobas.  Well,  I 
found  Hertzer  in  full  enjoyment  of  a  brand-new 
judicial  appointment.  Deputy-acting-assistant  po 
liceman  and  justice  of  the  peace  would  about  repre 
sent  it  in  English,  and,  not  to  mention  the  dignity 
inherent  in  the  title,  he  expects  to  make  it  turn  a 
profit  when  the  teak  and  mahogany  begin  to  come 
down  on  the  tail  of  the  flood.  You  see,  ridiculous 
as  it  appears,  these  thousands  of  square  miles  of 
heated  jungle  are  the  private  property  of  powerful 
Mexican  families.  Of  course  the  owners  never  did 
and  probably  never  will  set  a  foot  on  the  land.  But 
still  it  is  privately  owned,  and  when  the  Zacatecos, 
who  have  rafted  timber  down  these  rivers  for  the  last 
two  hundred  years,  come  down  this  fall,  Hertzer 

164 


CANCER   SWINGS,  AND  — 

will  hold  them  up  till  they  prove  ownership.  If  they 
can't — and  that's  a  cinch — he'll  confiscate  the  tim 
ber,  and  after  deducting  the  rake-off  for  his  supe 
rior,  the  Jefe-Politico  of  San  Juan,  he  stands  to  make 
a  couple  of  thousand,  Mex.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
balder  robbery?"  However,  a  gleam  of  admiration 
chastened  his  reprehension,  a  touch  of  regret  modified 
his  tone  as  he  finished:  "There's  another  application 
of  your  theory,  Mann.  Though  it  were  to  make  us 
instantly  rich,  neither  you  nor  I  could  do  it.  To  the 
devil  with  these  limitations!" 

"The  Jew!"  David  commented.      "What  a  Jew!" 

"Yes,  but  the  Jew  militant.  These  Zacatecos  are 
no  joke.  I  wouldn't  like  to  tackle  the  job." 

"And  how  is  he  getting  along  with  his  Yaquis?" 
David  asked. 

"Pretty  well.  After  a  flogging  or  two  they  got 
down  to  work,  and  he  nursed  them  like  a  father 
through  the  rains.  Now,  don't  jump  to  conclusions! 
He  hasn't  been  miraculously  converted  to  your  labor 
theories.  It's  easily  explained.  They  are  his  for 
life — private  property,  like  so  many  head  of  cattle, 
and  he  treats  them  accordingly.  And  now  to  busi 
ness.  What  of  the  beans?" 

"You  can  have  them,"  David  said,  after  a  glance 
at  his  stock. 

"Another  of  your  limitations,"  Phelps  laughed. 
"Though  his  store  is  stacked  to  the  rafters,  Hertzer 
wouldn't  lend  me  a  bean.  Wanted  to  sell  me  at 
sixteen  prices.  You'll  never  be  rich,  Mann.  Now, 

165 


THE    PLANTER 

if  you  will  please  have  some  of  your  fellows  carry 
them  down  to  the  canoe,  I'll  walk  out  with  you  and 
take  a  look  at  the  rubber." 

It  was  still  early,  and  as  the  declension  of  the  sun 
in  Cancer  had  already  lowered  temperatures,  it  was, 
for  the  tropics,  a  cool  day;  though,  measured  by  de 
gree,  the  heat  yet  rivalled  the  Northern  dog-days, 
the  morning  had  for  them  all  the  flavor  of  cool  Oc 
tober.  The  familiar  cackling  of  Rafaela's  hens  helped 
the  impression,  and  as  they  walked  by  the  cook-house 
the  clarion  crow  of  her  game  rooster  rang  out  as 
clearly  as  those  which  float  with  a  whiff  of  wood 
smoke  over  autumn  fields.  From  the  surrounding 
woods,  too,  the  chacalakuas  (wild  fowl)  competed 
with  the  domestic  clamor.  But  for  these,  and  a  far- 
off  booming,  melancholy  call  of  monkeys,  they  might 
have  fancied  themselves  at  home. 

As  aforesaid,  a  fifty  acres  or  so  of  rubber  had 
been  kept  fairly  clean,  even  in  Meagher's  careless 
time;  and  now  what  of  the  rains  and  David's  careful 
husbandry  it  upstood  in  serried  array,  wand -like 
branches  all  tufted  with  leaves,  rich  and  thick  as 
green  velvet.  Even  the  new  plantings  had  put  forth 
stocky  plants,  and  coming  back  through  five  hundred 
acres  of  it  Phelps  repeatedly  expressed  his  admiration. 

"It  is  fine,  Mann — fine!  I  don't  see  how  you  did  it. 
Verda  used  to  be  a  joke  on  this  river,  but  I  see  that 
we  shall  have  to  turn  elsewhere  for  an  awful  example. 
Even  Guadaloupe  enthused  over  it  when  he  met  me 
at  the  landing — that  is,"  he  amended,  "he  enthused 

166 


CANCER   SWINGS,  AND  — 

over  the  rubber.  Seems  to  think  you  are  making  a 
fool  of  yourself  with  the  men.  What's  this  about 
your  leaving  the  galera  unlocked  at  night?'* 

His  sudden  look  of  suspicious  concern  drew  Da 
vid's  smile.  "Only  an  experiment.  For  the  last 
two  months  the  men  have  been  coming  in  alone  from 
the  fields,  one  by  one,  each  as  he  finished  his  stint. 
So  far  we  have  had  no  runaways,  and  I  intend,  if 
possible,  to  give  them  complete  freedom.  You  see, 
if  they  could  only  hunt  or  fish  a  little  after  hours  and 
on  Sundays,  they  would  be  healthier  as  well  as  more 
contented.  Indeed,"  he  went  on,  after  a  modest 
pause,  "I  half  believe  that  I  have  solved  the  prob 
lem  of  tropical  labor." 

Again  Phelps  raised  quizzical  brows.  "Yes?  And 
how?" 

"By  colonization.  I  have  already  given  three 
men — who  have  wives  and  children  to  anchor  them — 
a  cabin  apiece  with  land  enough  for  their  corn  and 
frijoles.  In  return  they  are  to  keep  two  hectares  of 
rubber  thoroughly  clean  throughout  the  year,  and  I 
have  figured  that  I  can  pay  them  a  dollar  for  each 
day's  actual  labor,  and  still  get  the  work  done  a  hun 
dred  per  cent,  cheaper  than  by  enganchars.  What 
do  you  think  of  it?" 

"What  do  I  think  of  it?"  Phelps  had  listened 
impatiently,  and  now  he  exploded.  "I  think  it's  all 
damned  rot!  Whoever  saw  a  plateau  Mexican  who 
would  settle  down  anywhere  but  in  his  pais?  I  see 
how  it  is,  Mann" — his  voice  dropped  to  a  mendicant 


THE    PLANTER 

whine:  '"I'd  love  to  stay  with  you  all  my  life,  senor, 
you  are  so  kind  and  pleasant  and  nice!'  They  have 
been  feeding  you  that  sort  of  tommy-rot.  As  for 
coming  in  alone,  did  you  expect  them  to  run  away 
with  the  river  at  flood  and  the  jungle  a  bog?  Wait 
till  the  water  goes  down."  They  were  now  back  at 
the  river,  and,  looking  down  on  the  canoe,  Phelps 
finished:  "I  see  it  is  loaded,  and  I'll  have  to  go.  But 
take  my  advice,  Mann,  and  leave  well  alone." 

"To-morrow,"  David  called  after  him,  as  he  went 
down  the  bank, "  is  the  fifteenth  of  September,  the  Mex 
ican  Fourth  of  July.  I'm  giving  them  a  whole  holiday, 
with  a  barbecue  during  the  day  and  a  dance  at  night." 

Phelps  shrugged  without  looking  round.  "More 
lunacy.  They  won't  thank  you — are  sure  to  take  it 
as  a  confession  of  weakness.  They  will  think  you 
are  afraid  of  them.  Severity,  I  tell  you,  is  the  only 
thing.  But  I  perceive  you  are  hopeless.  It's  the 
New  England  virus  at  work  in  your  veins.  I  can 
only  commend  you  to  the  saint — whoever  he  is — 
that  protects  one  from  runaway  enganchars." 

Meeting  Guadaloupe  just  then  coming  up  from  the 
canoe,  he  stopped  and  held  him  in  talk  for  a  minute. 
From  above  David  could  not  hear  what  they  said, 
but  he  caught  the  mandador's  brown  grin,  and  when, 
with  mutual  headshakes,  each  went  on  his  way,  he 
smiled,  thinking  that  he  understood. 

Out  of  black  night  a  bonfire  played  like  a  vivid 
fountain  sending  a  red  rain  of  sparks  out  to  vie  with 

168 


CANCER   SWINGS,   AND  — 

the  greenish  twinklings  of  a  myriad  lantern-flies,  splash 
ing  the  store,  galera,  and  cook-house  with  crimson 
spray  of  light. 

The  barbecue  was  over.  Of  three  porkers,  whose 
dying  squeals  had  risen  a  reluctant  paean  to  Mexican 
independence,  there  remained  only  the  savory  odor 
which  still  clung  about  the  pits,  unless  one  add  a  still 
subtler  essence,  the  greasy  content  on  the  faces  of 
the  enganchadores  who  were  clustered  about  the 
platform  David  had  had  erected  for  dancing;  and 
this  was  fast  dissolving  in  thirsty  expectation  as  they 
watched  Maria  Guadaloupe  stir  and  taste  a  caldron 
of  tekala  punch. 

In  honor  of  the  occasion  they  had  donned  clean 
cottons,  which,  brilliantly  white  under  the  firelight, 
intensified  the  black  and  bronze  of  eyes  and  faces, 
and  formed  a  startling  background  for  the  gala  crim 
son  of  Rafaela,  Andrea,  and  other  half-dozen  Zaca- 
tecas  from  an  Indian  village  across  the  river.  These, 
free  people,  with  their  menfolk,  in  charro  costume — 
skin-tight  trousers,  bolero  jackets,  silver  or  gold  laced 
felt  sombreros — occupied  benches  on  either  side  of 
David's  chair  of  honor,  and  no  dame  in  the  stalls  of 
a  theatre  could  have  achieved  superciliousness  chillier 
than  that  in  the  glances  they  directed  at  the  cook 
house  women  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  platform. 

This  was  a  rude  affair.  Scarcely  half  the  size  of 
a  prize-ring,  it  had  yet  taken  two  men  the  best  part 
of  a  week  to  whipsaw  its  boards  and  stringers  out  of 
the  log,  and  because,  perhaps,  a  perennial  dearth  of 

169 


THE   PLANTER 

lumber  has  moulded  the  form  of  tropical  dancing, 
its  narrow  limits  sufficed  for  the  eternal  jig  which 
had  been  going  on  for  hours.  Very  like  the  Irish 
dance  in  its  constant  change  of  partners,  its  action 
was  not  nearly  so  violent  and  moved  to  a  slower 
rhythm.  Supposed  to  represent  a  wooing,  it  was  in 
its  simplicity  analogous  to  the  dancing  of  grouse  that 
precedes  spring  mating.  As,  with  crimson  skirts  out 
stretched,  one  of  the  Zacatecas  glided  right  and  left 
under  the  flash  and  play  of  the  firelight,  it  were  easy 
to  imagine  her  a  gorgeous  bird;  the  posturing  of  the 
man  advancing  upon  her  were  no  more  intricate  than 
the  struttings  of  a  cock  grouse;  the  tinkling  accom 
paniment  of  guitars  and  high  nasal  chant  of  a  single 
singer  were  surely  less  musical  than  the  twitterings 
of  birds. 

The  singing,  as  David  soon  found,  had  its  own 
significance.  As  a  girl  climbed  onto  the  platform 
one  of  the  half-dozen  instrumentalists  would  impro 
vise  a  line  in  her  honor,  which  would  be  instantly 
capped  by  a  rival  singer,  and  thus,  line  by  line,  her 
qualities  would  be  celebrated,  till  one  or  other  failed 
of  a  rhyme.  Whereupon  both  would  repair  to  cele 
brate  success  and  drown  failure  in  Guadaloupe's 
kettle. 

Than  that  scene  with  its  fire  and  action  going  on 
within  the  lit  circle  of  conical  palm  huts  there  could 
be  nothing  more  opposite  to  the  cool  quiet  of  a  sober 
Northfield  evening,  yet  David  did  not  feel  it  strange 
or  unfamiliar.  In  six  months  he  had  grown  to  the 

170 


CANCER   SWINGS,    AND  — 

bronzed  faces,  heat  and  color  of  jungle  life,  fire  of 
southern  skies  over  dusks  jewelled  with  amethyst 
flashes  of  flies — grown  to  it  till  the  old  life  loomed  as 
a  dim  dream  very  far  away.  And  surely  it  was  a 
far  cry  from  the  David  of  Northfield  to  the  youthful 
patriarch  who  sat  amid  his  big,  brown  family  and 
smiled  at  practices  that,  aforetime,  would  have  raised 
his  hair  in  horror;  who  tested  the  tequila  and  raised 
his  glass  almost  jovially  in  response  to  repeated 
toasts  to  his  health,  yet  kept  a  careful  eye  on  the 
kettle  while  delightedly  watching  the  dancing  of  his 
enganchars. 

At  first  the  free  people  had  seemed  inclined  to 
stand  on  their  caste,  but  the  steaming  tequila  had  soon 
washed  out  the  line.  The  singers,  to  be  sure,  sub 
stituted  parodies  for  praises  in  accompanying  the 
cook-house  women.  But  so  that  the  comparison 
were  made  in  good  dance  time,  neither  Casamira, 
Panchita,  nor  any  other  seemed  to  take  offence  at 
the  likening  of  their  waists  to  a  tub.  Poor  slaves  of 
the  metates,  their  labor  -  stiffened  muscles  did  not 
lend  themselves  to  grace.  They  moved  with  jerks, 
like  marionettes,  bobbed  up  and  down,  taking  their 
pleasure  seriously,  without  relaxing  a  facial  line. 
Yet  for  all  their  stolidity  they  evidenced  such  en 
joyment,  sheer  physical  delight,  that  David  gravi 
tated  between  pleasure  and  pity.  Until  twelve  he 
watched  them  foot  it,  and  when  he  stood  at  the  door 
while  they  filed  into  the  galeras,  their  radiant  "  Buenas- 
noches"  caused  him  to  revert,  with  a  smile,  to  Phelps's 

171 


THE    PLANTER 

discouraging  words.  Their  smiles  were  the  first  he 
had  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  enganchadores.  Snatches 
of  song  followed  him  back  to  the  fire,  where  the  other 
half  of  his  problem  lay  in  waiting. 

Returning,  he  saw  that  Andrea — who  took  the 
platform  as  he  left — was  dancing  alone.  At  the  dis 
tance  her  spread  skirts  flamed  like  scarlet  wings, 
and  she  seemed  to  be  hovering  over  a  vermilion  con 
fusion  of  men  and  women  who  came  and  went  about 
the  platform.  It  was  neither  the  first  nor  the  fifth 
time  she  had  danced  that  evening,  but  even  a  care 
less  eye  might  have  discerned  a  difference,  sensed  a 
purpose  behind  her  continued  glidings.  Instead  of 
throwing  her  kerchief  to  her  choice  out  of  the  dozen 
men  who  were  clapping  hands  and  hissing  to  attract 
her  attention,  she  moved  in  the  monotonous  time 
of  the  dance  until  David  resumed  his  seat.  Then, 
as  though  that  were  her  signal,  she  snapped  her  fin 
gers  at  the  musicians  and  broke  into  the  step  of  a 
lively  fandango. 

Arms  swinging,  fingers  snapping,  body  swaying 
languorously  with  the  music,  she  circled  and  recircled 
the  platform  in  an  abandon  of  luxurious  motion. 
The  tekala,  which  burned  like  fire  in  her  veins,  had 
melted  her  veneer  of  reserve,  and  every  limb,  line, 
and  curve  expressed  her  vital  animality.  As,  going 
away,  she  swayed  and  looked  back  at  David,  her 
short,  loose  tunic  raised  to  the  uplift  of  her  arms, 
revealing  the  nude  waist  and  starting  bust,  redly 
golden  in  the  firelight,  her  pools  of  eyes  caught  the 

172 


CANCER    SWINGS,    AND  — 

glow  and  shone  like  ruby  velvet;  she  exhaled  sensu- 
ousness,  and  as  her  gaze  caught  and  held  his,  David 
shivered,  was  affected  as  though  by  a  powerful  odor. 

It  was  not  the  glimpse  of  nudity.  They  were  now 
commonplaces  of  his  life  and  had  been  in  evidence 
all  evening.  But  her  every  languorous  movement 
seemed  to  call  with  a  soft  voice,  to  breathe  an  in 
vitation,  and  he  blushed  with  sudden  shame — blushed, 
and  in  the  act  of  blushing  was  aware  that  shame 
was  merely  the  upper  layer  of  feelings  that  were 
unanalyzable  in  that  turgid  moment.  He  glanced 
uneasily  to  right  and  left.  But  while  the  men  were 
watching  the  play  of  her  kerchief  the  singers  stooped 
over  their  instruments;  the  women  were  beating  the 
time  with  their  hands. 

As  she  came  swinging  and  swaying  from  another 
turn  her  eyes  again  singled  out  David,  and  he  ceased 
to  breathe  as  she  made  to  throw.  It  was,  however, 
only  a  part  of  her  coquetry.  But  if  he  gasped  when 
the  kerchief  fluttered  to  the  hand  of  a  young  Zacateco, 
relief  was  curiously  mingled  with  another  feeling — 
one  which  he  immediately  denied  and  thrust  out  of 
consciousness.  Denied  admittance  to  his  thoughts, 
it  still  manifested  itself  in  contrary  impulses  to  re 
tain  and  leave  his  seat.  He  wished  to  leave,  but  did 
not  like  to;  and  he  sat  on,  watching  the  dance  until 
he  suddenly  realized  that  by  doing  so  he  was  coun 
tenancing  the  very  feeling  he  was  denying.  Then  he 
immediately  rose  and  walked  away  to  his  hut,  where 
he  found  the  feeling  strongly  intrenched. 


THE    PLANTER 

Moreover,  it  refused  to  be  ousted.  "Why  didn't 
you  stay  ?"  it  whispered.  "  Or  you  could  have  broken 
up  the  baile." 

"Pish!"    He  snorted  his  scorn  of  the  idea. 

"Then  why  did  you  leave  so  suddenly?"  Truthful 
conscience  now  took  a  hand  in  his  cross-examination. 
"And  why  that  backward  glance  from  the  door?" 

"Well — "  David  began.  Then  being  naturally  as 
honest  with  himself  as  with  others,  he  faced  the  issue 
squarely. 

He  was  certainly  not  in  love  with  Andrea — that  is, 
as  poets  write  of  the  passion.  He  made  the  necessary 
qualification;  but  what  of  the  ugly  feeling  that  had 
thrust  through  his  shame  when  her  kerchief  fluttered 
by  him?  The  Zacateco,  a  clean-limbed  fellow,  with 
straight,  imperious  brows  and  nose,  had  hovered 
about  her  all  evening.  When  they  were  not  dan 
cing,  his  guitar  had  tinkled  perpetually  in  her  hon 
or,  continuing  the  court,  and  David  was  now  suffi 
ciently  posted  on  Zacateco  customs  to  know  that, 
if  sufficiently  impressed,  the  girl  would  probably 
cross  the  river  and  set  up  housekeeping  in  his  cabin 
that  very  night.  If  not  in  love,  then  her  choice 
had  violated  a  sense  of  physical  ownership,  and  the 
realization  of  it  caused  him  to  pause  aghast  at  this 
sudden  glimpse  into  the  abyss  below  consciousness 
where  works  the  silent  machinery  of  nature. 

There  was  no  getting  away  from  it.  While,  in 
the  pride  of  his  robust  morality,  he  had  continually 
ejected  her  from  the  swept  chambers  of  his  thoughts, 

174 


CANCER    SWINGS,    AND  — 

she  had  quietly  crawled  in  again  at  the  basement 
windows.  The  very  act  of  rejection  had  created 
the  surety  of  acceptance,  and  it  had  required  only  the 
touch  of  jealousy  to  bring  knowledge  of  it  up  from 
nascent  consciousness. 

He  acknowledged  it.  "I  was  surely  jealous."  Then 
out  of  his  travail  burst  a  bit  of  slang  than  which 
nothing  could  better  have  described  his  feeling:  "My 
God!  where  am  I  at?" 

In  the  flash  of  that  frank  confession  he  saw  himself 
on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  an  abyss  from  which  the 
huge  hand  of  the  cave  man  reached  up  to  grasp  the 
moiety  that  was  left  him  in  this  disciple  of  a  severe 
school,  and  he  heard  the  howl  of  the  original  beast 
clamoring  for  his  meal  of  golden  flesh.  And,  as  if 
this  were  not  sufficient,  a  still  small  voice  issued  out 
of  the  dark  —  the  logic  of  Phelps  supporting  their 
claims. 

Between  them  he  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  Let 
moralists  uphold  shocked  hands,  aesthetes  wonder  at 
his  taste,  the  fact  remains  that  in  this,  the  hour  of 
his  discovered  weakness,  the  poor  lad  called  every 
canon  of  established  morality  before  the  bar  of  his 
awakened  senses  and  found  them  more  or  less  want 
ing,  insufficient  to  the  needs  of  the  case.  "Thou 
shalt  not!"  read  their  law;  but  when  was  a  law  effec 
tive  without  a  policeman?  And  public  opinion,  the 
policeman  of  morals,  here  worked  against  the  law. 
So  he  tossed  and  turned  in  a  fever  until  shouts  from 
across  the  river  announced  the  departure  of  the 

175 


THE    PLANTER 

Zacatecos.  Then  he  lay  still  as  death,  barely  breath 
ing,  till  a  soft  foot-fall  and  the  click  of  Andrea's  door 
started  him  into  fresh  ragings  at  himself  for  having 
listened. 

"  You'll  have  to  get  rid  of  her,"  he  groaned,  at  last. 
"To-morrow  she  can  move  into  her  mother's  cabin, 
and  I'll  do  my  own  cooking." 

Whereupon,  and  in  the  absence  of  anything  better, 
conscience  permitted  him  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep. 


XII 

MR.   DAVID    GOES    DOWN,  AND — 

DID  he  live  up  to  that  hardy  resolution  ? 
In  the  cool  perspective  of  morning,  midnight 
reflections  are  apt  to  lose  some  of  their  fever,  and  an 
early  dip  in  the  river  cooled  David  so  much  that  when 
Andrea  served  his  breakfast,  with  her  usual  quiet 
stealth,  he  was  inclined  to  set  it  all  down  as  a  night 
mare,  an  opinion  which  strengthened  as  he  ate  his 
meal.  In  the  face  of  delicately  broiled  fish,  tortillas 
light  as  snowflakes,  coffee  hot  and  strong,  it  is  hard 
to  be  severe,  more  especially  when  severity  carries 
with  it  the  penalty  of  being  condemned  to  the  hor 
rors  of  one's  own  cooking.  So,  appeasing  conscience 
with  a  promise  to  choose  a  more  fitting  opportunity, 
David  went  out  to  work. 

Andrea's  opinion  may  be  best  deduced  from  her 
replies  to  Rafaela  as  they  watched  him  ride  away 
from  the  door  of  the  cook-house. 

"I  tell  thee,"  Rafaela  argued,  "that  he  liked  not 
thy  dancing  with  Candelario.  His  face  grew  black 
as  mine,  and  I  caught  the  jealous  flash  of  his  eye. 
Laggard  as  he  is,  he  felt  the  spur.  One  more  such 
touch — "  She  snapped  her  fingers. 

177 


THE    PLANTER 

The  girl's  shoulders  quivered  like  shimmering  satin. 
"Ay,  but  now  how  shall  one  give  it?" 

Leaning  her  mighty  brawn  against  the  door- jamb, 
Rafaela  laughed  in  scorn.  "Ohe!  the  blood  runs 
colder,  the  wit  slower  since  my  day.  Ask  for  thy 
wage,  and  he  will  instantly  see  thee  headed  across 
river." 

Andrea's  dark  brows  rose.     "But  if  he  pay  me?" 

Rafaela  expelled  a  huge  breath.  "Pouf!  waste  no 
more  time.  White  meat  is  sweet  to  the  tooth,  but 
dark  more  filling  to  the  belly.  Candelario  is  a  clever 
hunter,  and  the  fish  fight  for  a  chance  at  his  net." 

"And  I  am  to  wash  his  camisas?"  the  girl  ques 
tioned,  scornfully.  "Grind  his  tortillas,  with  stick 
for  my  pay  when  the  liquor  is  in  him?" 

"  'Tis  the  lot  of  us  all,"  Rafaela  grimly  answered. 
"Only  this  morning  thy  father  laid  his  machete 
across  my  back,  as  though  I  could  help  his  calen- 
tura.  It  is  to  escape  it  that  I  give  thee  advice.  For 
six  months  hast  thou  played  this  shy  fish,  with  never 
a  nibble  until  last  night.  If  thou  wouldst  see  him 
leap  from  the  water,  lift  the  bait — lift  while  the  hun 
ger  is  on  him.  'Tis  thy  only  chance — take  it  or  not." 
With  which  she  went  in-doors,  leaving  the  girl  to  muse 
on  the  threshold. 

It  was,  of  course,  a  chance!  But  the  fiesta  of  San 
Juan  was  drawing  near,  and  if  she  were  to  ruffle  it 
there  in  silk  and  -velvet  something  must  soon  be 
done.  The  more  she  thought  it  over  the  more  she 
inclined  to  her  mother's  logic,  and  when  she  finally 


MR.  DAVID    GOES   DOWN,  AND  — 


rose  and  went  back  to  her  own  kitchen  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  give  David  notice  at  lunch. 

Unaware  that  he  was  to  be  thus  hoisted  with  his 
own  petard,  David  jogged  along,  meanwhile,  in  pleas 
ant  company  with  Conscience.  "She  is  really  a  fine 
cook,"  he  argued.  "If  her  ambition  would  pause  at 
that?"  said  Conscience.  "Of  course,  of  course!"  David 
hastened.  "  If  she  steps  over  the  line  again — "  "  Fire 
her  at  once,"  Conscience  finished,  and  so  left  him  to 
his  work.  For  he  was  to  be  very  busy  that  morning 
inaugurating  his  colony. 

Taking  the  three  men,  its  nucleus,  with  him,  he 
marked  off  land  for  their  corn  down  by  the  river, 
measured  its  rental  in  hectares  of  rubber  they  were  to 
keep  clean,  and  had  still  time  enough  before  lunch  for 
another  operation.  Fifty  acres  of  his  oldest  rubber 
was  now  tall  and  stout  enough  to  stand  the  wear  and 
tear  of  rubbing  cattle.  "Once  in  that  stage,"  Phelps 
had  said  the  day  before,  "a  few  cows  are  worth  a 
batch  of  enganchars.  They'll  keep  the  monte  pas 
tured  down  to  the  ground,  and  turn  you  a  few  dol 
lars  on  the  side.  Fence  it,  and  turn  some  in.  You 
can  buy  all  you  need  from  the  Zacateco  rancheros 
across  the  river."  In  accord  with  which  advice  he 
now  divided  contracts  for  the  fence  among  his  three 
retainers. 

What  of  these  interests,  the  stir  and  healthy  action, 
he  forgot  Andrea  and  his  midnight  tossings,  returned, 
as  he  thought,  so  closely  to  his  normal  that  he  laughed 
aloud  when  they  did  recur  to  memory  as  he  rode  in 

179 


THE    PLANTER 

to  lunch.  Jealous,  indeed!  What  if  she  did  go  to  hei 
Indian?  Nor  did  he  realize  that  his  philosophizings 
upon  her  going  were  based  on  the  fact  that  she  had 
not  gone  until  she  touched  off  the  petard  as  she 
brought  him  his  coffee. 

He  looked  up,  darkly  flushing.  "You  want  to 
leave?" 

"Si,  senor."     She  gave  him  steady  eyes. 

She  had  blazed  the  way  he  had  expected  to  hew  for 
himself,  but  as  he  waited,  hesitant,  his  mind  flashed  out 
and  down  it  to  a  hut  in  the  tropical  forest.  It  was 
difficult  to  find  the  philosopher  of  an  hour  before  in 
the  stammering  youth  who  gave  answer.  "Eh — you 
don't  mean — to-day?" 

"At  your  convenience,  senor,"  she  staidly  answered. 

Equally  difficult  was  it  to  discern  the  philosopher 
when,  lying  at  length  on  his  catre  a  few  minutes  later, 
he  stared  up  into  the  brown  gloom  of  the  apex.  He 
was  not  thinking.  He  saw  and  heard  Andrea  carry 
ing  the  dishes  out  to  her  kitchen,  was  conscious  of 
sunbeams  that  laid  slender  fingers  of  gold  between 
the  siding,  watched  with  some  interest  the  travels 
of  a  scorpion  along  a  bamboo  rafter;  but  while  reg 
istering  these  externals  his  mind  refused  commerce 
with  the  tumult  of  feeling  beneath  its  dead  calm. 
Things  of  the  past,  plantation  business,  events  of 
the  future  it  quietly  considered.  He  remembered 
that  he  was  to  cross  the  river  that  afternoon  to  look 
at  some  cattle,  and  presently  he  heard  himself  telling 
Andrea  of  his  intention.  Her  queer,  considering  look 

180 


MR.  DAVID    GOES    DOWN,  AND  — 

caused  him  to  glance  in  his  glass,  but,  though  he 
turned  uneasily  from  the  harassed  eyes  which  stared 
out  of  a  red  suffusion,  he  did  not  reflect  on  the  cause 
behind  them. 

That  morning  Guadaloupe  had  risen  complaining, 
and,  though  David  now  found  him  waiting  outside 
the  store  for  a  second  dose  of  quinine,  he  stoutly  re 
pelled  a  suggestion  to  lay  off;  neither  would  he  per 
mit  any  other  than  himself  to  ferry  him  over  the 
river. 

"V.  esta  infermo  tambien?"  he  said,  as  he  saddled 
the  dripping  horse  on  the  other  side. 

Replying  that  he  was  not  sick,  David  mounted  and 
rode  on  into  the  jungle.  Crossing  the  river  he  had 
experienced  a  sensation  of  pleasure  in  the  sheen  of 
the  water,  musical  plunk  of  the  pole,  muscular  en 
ergy  of  his  swimming  horse.  Now  he  noticed  the 
graceful  curve  of  great  palm  feathers,  flame  of  orchids 
in  mossy  shade,  the  flight  of  brilliant  birds.  Once 
he  reined  in  to  admire  a  tree,  large  as  a  Northern 
oak,  which  bore  a  bright  orange  bell  at  the  end  of 
each  twig  in  place  of  leaves.  Also  he  watched  the 
rise  and  heavy  flapping  flight  of  a  scarlet-crested 
vulture,  king  of  the  leaden  tribe,  and  when  the  path 
suddenly  debouched  on  a  clearing  wide  enough  to 
be  styled  a  plain  he  exclaimed  his  admiration. 

Burned  off,  years  ago,  by  a  fire  that  spared  only 
the  sturdy  oaks,  it  had  been  kept  clear  of  monte  by 
the  cattle  which  spotted  its  vivid  green  with  patches 
of  red  and  white.  Knee-deep  in  verdant  pasture 

181 


THE    PLANTER 

that  rolled  in  sunlit  waves  around  the  dotting  oaks, 
it  looked  more  like  some  lordly  English  park  than  a 
clearing  in  the  heart  of  the  tropics.  The  village 
with  its  palm-roofed  huts  seemed  sharply  out  of 
place  as  the  brown  ranchero,  in  charro  suit  and  wide 
sombrero,  who  came  riding  out  to  meet  him. 

With  the  rancher o  —  the  same  with  whom  Ewing 
had  wrangled  the  morning  after  David  came  to  La 
Luna — he  rode  from  band  to  band.  But  though  he 
chose  his  beasts  and  reached  an  agreement  as  to 
price  and  time  of  delivery,  though  he  acted  all  through 
like  his  usual  reasonable  self,  he  was  curiously  con 
scious  of  a  dual  personality — a  David  who  saw,  heard, 
bargained,  and  who  looked  forward  with  a  dim  shrink 
ing  to  the  moment  when  he  would  be  compelled  to 
give  pause  and  reason  with  the  other  David  who  was 
held,  blind  and  speechless,  in  the  grip  of  a  huge  amor 
phous  instinct. 

After  the  bargain  was  closed  it  had  to  be  sealed 
with  a  sip  of  tekala  in  the  fashion  of  the  country,  and 
as  they  rode  into  the  village  the  doorways  filled  with 
brown,  curious  women  and  girls  whose  smiles  ran  the 
gamut  from  bold  to  shy.  One,  a  pretty  baggage  of 
eighteen,  called  after  him.  "She  say  will  you  have 
her  to  keep  your  house?"  the  rancher  o  translated, 
grinning  broadly,  and  as,  glancing  back,  David  caught 
the  challenging  flash  of  dark  eyes  a  vivid  impulse 
leaped  through  his  veins  consuming  his  will,  enslaving 
his  senses.  Thereafter  he  saw  everything  through  a 
shimmering  haze  sensuous  as  yellow  sunlight  —  the 

182 


MR.  DAVID    GOES    DOWN,  AND  — 

comely  women,  graceful  girls;  the  children,  small 
golden  blots  in  the  dust;  the  full-breasted  mother 
suckling  her  babe  in  the  rancher o's  hut. 

Riding  homeward,  too,  that  dominant  instinct 
directed  his  senses.  The  love-calls  of  birds,  the 
wood-dove's  gentle  piping,  floated  through  dusk 
that  was  soft  as  a  sigh.  From  the  high  trees  came 
the  domestic  clamor  of  monkeys;  everywhere  the 
parrots  winged  in  their  pairs.  In  the  jungle  gloom 
palms  leaned  to  each  other  softly  caressing;  bejucas 
writhed  in  a  fierce  embrace.  Darkness  itself  settled 
like  the  quiet  of  satisfied  love  over  a  vast  fecundity 
of  which  procreation  was  the  only  law. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  reached  the  river. 
Across  the  stretch  of  livid  waters  the  buildings 
loomed,  a  dim  blur  pierced  here  and  there  with 
yellow-and-red  beams  of  lights  and  fires.  Waiting 
for  the  canoe,  he  heard  lively  chatter  in  the  cook 
house — Rafaela's  harsh  command,  the  wail  of  a  child; 
then,  clear  as  a  bell,  but  with  a  throaty  ululation  in 
it  like  the  coo  of  a  wild  pigeon,  Andrea's  laugh  floated 
out  on  the  warm  night,  and  again  a  fierce  excitement 
leaped  in  his  throat. 

He  hardly  noticed  that  it  was  Rafaela  who  ferried 
him  across.  Leaving  her  to  stable  and  dry  down  his 
wet  beast,  he  walked  on  to  the  house,  where  Andrea, 
clean  and  neat  as  a  pin,  waited  to  serve  his  supper. 
With  a  brusque  "  No  quiero  comer,"  he  closed  the  door 
— almost  in  her  face — and  sat  down  to  think.  But 
think  he  could  not.  His  whole  power  was  concen- 

183 


THE    PLANTER 

trated  on  resistance,  an  effort  real  and  sustained  as 
though  he  were  trying  to  hold  down  a  man  stronger 
than  himself,  and  there  was  no  iota  left  over  for 
thought.  Elbows  on  knees,  hot  face  in  his  hands,  he 
sat  on  the  edge  of  his  catre  shivering  or  glowing  to 
successive  surges  of  feeling  that  strained  at  his  reso 
lution  as  a  sea  tugs  at  a  ship's  cable;  and  when,  rising, 
he  lit  his  lamp  at  last,  the  act  was  analogous  to  that 
of  the  mariner  who  cuts  a  dragging  anchor  to  make 
a  last  desperate  run  for  port. 

He  found  no  harbor  of  refuge  in  the  account-book 
he  first  picked  up.  Throwing  it  aside,  he  opened  a 
volume  of  Kipling,  the  property  of  Phelps,  and  idly 
turned  the  pages  till  his  eye  fell  on  M'Andrew's 
hymn: 

"  Lord,  Thou  hast  made  this  world  below  the  shadow  of  a 
dream." 

The  pomp  and  swing  of  that  high-sounding  line 
instantly  riveted  his  attention,  and  every  association 
of  early  training  caused  him  to  grasp  at  the  name 
of  Deity  in  this  his  moment  of  weakness.  Dimly 
feeling  that  help  had  been  vouchsafed  him,  he  read 
on  to  where  the  old  engineer  cries  out  in  anguish  of 
spirit,  "  .  .  .  How  far,  O  Lord,  from  Thee?" 

"  How  far,  O  Lord,  from  Thee?" 

It  thrilled  him,  that  great  cry;  and  had  he  stayed 
his  reading  there,  he  might  have  been  strengthened 
for  another  day's  resistance.  But  he  read  along — 
M'Andrew's  lustful  envy  of  couples  "kittlin'  in  the 

184 


MR.  DAVID   GOES    DOWN,  AND  — 

dark  behind  the  funnel  stays,"  his  raking  of  the  ports 
in  pride,  down  through  the  remorseful  confession  of 
surrender  to  the  tropics.  The  "playhouse  scenes," 
the  "soft  lasceevious  stars"  that  "leered  from  velvet 
skies,"  the  land-breeze  "  milk  -warm  wi'  breath  of 
spice  an*  bloom" — David  saw,  felt  them:  the  soft 
stars  even  then  shining  down  without,  the  wind  that 
breathed  its  fragrance  through  the  siding;  saw,  felt 
them  as  he  read  on  in  a  heat  to  a  line  which  brought 
a  vivid  picture  flashing  out  on  the  page: 

"  But  swells  the  ripenin'   cocoanut  an*  ripes   the  woman's 
breast." 

From  silvery  waters  beyond  the  black  palm  shade 
uprose  a  nude  bronze  bejewelled  with  running  dia 
monds.  Once  again  he  felt  his  head  sink  to  the  warm 
breast  as  on  the  day  she  massaged  his  bruises,  and 
at  the  memory  his  flesh,  the  exultant  unconquerable 
flesh  which  has  defied  the  mortification  of  a  thousand 
generations,  cried  out  aloud. 

Springing  up,  he  snapp'ed  the  book  shut.  It  had 
no  message  for  him.  If  Presbyterian  dogmatism 
could  not  proof  M' Andrew,  the  stiff  Scotsman, 
against  the  slow  sweet  poison  of  the  tropics,  what 
hope  was  there  for  him  ? 

Suffocating,  he  walked  to  the  door  and  swung  it 
wide,  but  closed  it  again  as  his  lamp  threw  a  nimbus 
around  Andrea,  who  was  sitting  in  her  doorway. 
There  was  nothing  unusual  in  that.  Almost  every 
evening  she  thrummed  her  guitar  in  the  cool.  But 
13  185 


THE    PLANTER 

he  felt  that  she  had  been  watching,  sensed  knowledge 
of  his  travail  in  her  quick  considering  glance — both 
knowledge  and  invitation,  and  he  went  back  to  his 
furious  wrestlings. 

"I  must  get  rid  of  her,"  he  told  himself,  and  was 
conscious  while  saying  it  that  her  absence  would  not 
vitally  affect  his  problem.  His  fight  was  with  Cancer. 
If  he  discharged  Andrea  he  would  still  have  to  deal 
with  the  women  and  girls  of  the  village,  who  had 
traded  at  the  store  before  the  rains  and  would  come 
again  when  the  water  fell  at  the  ford,  to  fill  his  days 
with  the  flutter  of  garments,  glint  of  golden  flesh. 
Were  it  only  for  that  night,  a  week,  a  month,  he  felt 
his  ability  to  battle  it  out.  But  it  would  require  five 
years,  perhaps  ten,  to  get  his  mother's  money  out  of 
the  plantation.  Ten  years!  He  paused,  listening,  for 
she  had  begun  to  sing: 

"  Viva  el  sol,  viva  la  luna, 

Viva  quien  sabe  querer. 
Viva  el  que  en  el  mundo  tiene 
Pena  por  una  mujer." 

Her  voice  lacked  even  a  trace  of  the  nasality  which 
characterized  the  singing  of  his  men.  But  for  the 
same  throaty  ululation  that  inhered  in  her  laugh, 
she  sang  like  a  white  woman,  and  David  knew  enough 
Spanish  to  interpret  the  refrain: 

"  Long  live  the  sun,  long  live  the  moon, 

Long  live  he  who  love  has  known. 
Long  live  the  man  who  e'er  has  sought 
Woman's  true  heart  to  call  his  own." 
186 


MR.  DAVID    GOES    DOWN,  AND  — 

The  sweat  streamed  down  David's  face.  His  lamp 
once  lit  he  could  be  seen  from  without  easily  as 
though  he  were  in  a  bird-cage,  and  suddenly  feeling 
her  eyes  he  turned  and  blew  out  the  light.  Then  he 
stood  spent,  streaming  perspiration,  conscious  only 
of  the  ease  that  followed  the  passing  of  resistance. 

"  Nina,  mine  thou  art, 
My  heart  and  soul  art  thou. 
Come,  my  love,  my  darling  come, 
Why  com'st  thou  not  to  me?" 

Simple  enough  in  themselves,  the  words  absorbed 
the  quivering  passion  of  the  accompaniment,  one  of 
those  melodies  of  old  Spain  that  rise  and  fall  with  the 
swing  and  surge  of  feeling,  and  breathe  along  with 
living  passion  something  of  the  melancholy  of  sated 
love. 

At  the  close  of  the  verse  she  sat,  still  as  death, 
pupils  dilated,  watching  his  door.  A  minute  passed 
— two — three — then,  as  her  strained  ear  caught  the 
faint  creak  of  his  door,  she  rose.  Her  own  light  still 
burned,  but  as  his  shape  took  form  in  the  opposite 
gloom,  she  slid  inside,  and  he  saw  her  face,  a  mask  of 
gold,  raised  to  blow  it  out.  Darkness  wiped  her  out. 
There  was  no  moon,  but  the  fire  of  stars  showed  her 
again  in  the  doorway.  He  could  make  out  her  eyes 
wide  pools  of  dusk,  faint  swell  of  her  chemisette,  the 
hand  that  presently  trembled  from  the  shadow  into 
the  starlight. 

A  peculiar  tranquillity  had  descended  upon  him. 
187 


THE    PLANTER 

Only  a  trembling,  sharp  as  an  ague,  told  of  the  fires 
beneath  the  unnatural  calm,  of  the  senses  vividly 
alive.  His  ear  picked  out  of  the  hush  a  restless  stir 
of  sleepers,  mutter  of  dreamers  within  the  galera, 
rumble  of  talk  in  Guadaloupe's  hut,  a  sigh  from  the 
opposite  shadows.  At  that  his  foot  rose,  slowly,  lift 
ing  against  the  lead  of  habit;  but  even  as  it  crossed 
the  threshold  a  yellow  oblong  split  out  of  the  dark 
mass  of  the  huts,  and  a  woman  came  running  down 
a  sudden  stream  of  lamplight. 


XIII 

TAKES    THE    COUNT 

COMPLETING  the  step,  David  was  almost  knock 
ed  down  by  the  woman's  headlong  rush;  but, 
recovering,  he  saw  it  was  Rafaela. 

"Oh,  senor!"  she  gasped.  "El  vomito  negro! 
El  fiebre!  It  is  not  calentura!  He  has  the  yellow- 
fever!  Un  remedio,  senor?  Quinine — give  me  qui 
nine!" 

Even  in  that  dim  light  he  could  see  her  huge  brawn 
quivering  like  jelly,  and  her  brown  convulsed  face 
helped  his  startled  faculties  to  comprehension  of  the 
situation.  "Yes,  yes,  I'll  get  him  quinine  at  once!" 

Glancing  at  Andrea's  doorway,  he  saw  to  his  relief 
that  it  was  empty,  a  feeling  that  gave  way  to  sur 
prise  as,  uttering  a  sudden  yell,  Rafaela  bolted  inside. 
"No,  senor,  no!"  Her  strident  protest  came  out  of 
black  darkness  inside.  "No,  senor,  it  is  muy  infecto! 
Muy  malo!  Un  remedio,  senor?  Un  remedio?" 

Still  not  understanding  that  she  wanted  the  medi 
cine  for  herself,  he  repeated:  "Yes,  yes.  It  is  in  the 
store.  I'll  get  it  as  we  go  by." 

"No,  senor,  I  will  not  go." 
189 


THE    PLANTER 

"You — won't  go?"  he  asked,  unable  to  believe  his 
ears .  "To  your  sick  husband ? ' ' 

"No,  senor."  And  she  broke  again  into  strenuous 
babblings  that  the  fever  was  extremely  infectious, 
begging  him  to  bring  her  quinine. 

Aghast  at  a  selfishness  which  outdid  that  of  the 
animals,  David  waited  a  minute  in  silence.  He  had 
to  have  help,  but,  though  insurgent  passion  had  sunk 
again  in  the  deeps  of  consciousness,  a  hesitant  shy 
ness,  touch  of  shame,  made  it  difficult  to  call  Andrea. 
When  he  conquered  it  she  appeared  at  once  in  the 
door. 

"You  will  come  with  me?" 

"No,  senor."  Her  answer  was  commonplace  in  its 
quietness.  But  not  knowing  as  yet  the  slightness  of 
tropical  family  ties,  he  stared  his  astonishment. 

"You  are  afraid?" 

"Si,  senor."  She  admitted  it  just  as  calmly;  and 
as  he  turned  to  walk  away  she  called  after:  "And 
go  not  you.  It  is  muy  infecto." 

Stopping,  he  looked  back.  She  had  moved  out 
into  the  starlight  which  toned  the  blood-red  of  her 
skirt,  bathed  every  soft  flexure  in  softly  sensuous 
light.  But  whereas  his  heart  had  leaped  into  his 
throat,  choking  him  as  his  eyes  fed  on  the  wild  beauty 
of  her  in  the  dusk,  he  now  sustained  a  sudden  revul 
sion.  Her  wide  eyes  held  neither  pity  nor  concern, 
only  dark  disappointment. 

"Won't  you  come?" 

The  plea  aimed  at  the  justification  of  himself  as 
190 


-TAKES   THE    COUNT— 

much  as  her.  It  was  an  attempt  to  prop  a  falling 
idol,  re-establish  the  ideal  of  primitive  womanhood, 
passionate,  brave,  free,  that  had  conquered  him  that 
day.  But  the  idol  refused  to  be  set  up,  and,  turning 
again,  he  walked  away,  angry  and  disgusted,  to  fight 
the  fever  alone. 

Of  the  disease  and  its  treatment  he  knew  only 
that  Hertzer  had  pulled  Meagher  through  the  col 
lapse  which  follows  the  nausea  by  stimulant  mustard 
baths  and  liberal  use  of  quinine.  And  having  pro 
cured  his  materials  he  routed  out  Tadeo — the  most 
intelligent  of  his  three  retainers — to  heat  water  in 
the  cook-house,  where  fire  still  glowed. 

The  proof  of  infection  by  mosquito-bites  still  lay 
a  couple  of  years  off  in  the  womb  of  the  future,  and 
approaching  the  cabin  David's  flesh  crept,  he  ex 
perienced  a  shrinking  repugnance  as  though  it  cen 
tred  in  a  cloud  of  germs.  But  the  feeling  vanished 
when  he  looked  in  at  the  door.  Blazing  at  full  on  the 
table,  the  lamp  showed  him  every  rough  appoint 
ment —  brasero  and  metate  in  one  corner,  the  cedar 
chest  that  held  Rafaela's  fiesta  wear,  the  mandador's 
machete  and  pistols  hanging  from  the  post  of  the 
bunk  on  which  he  himself  lay  face  turned  up  to  the 
light.  In  one  day  his  healthy  bronze  had  faded  to  a 
ghastly  yellow;  the  flicker  of  his  eyelids  expressed 
complete  exhaustion;  his  whisper,  faint  as  a  rustle 
of  dry  leaves,  barely  carried  across  the  cabin. 

"Don't  come  in,  senor.  Es  muy  infecto."  Old 
pirate  that  he  was,  slave-driver  and  murderer  of 

191 


THE    PLANTER 

enganchars,  his  one  ideal  still  held  him — the  fealty 
to  his  employer  he  had  learned  in  the  Valle  Nacional, 
the  "valley  of  terrors,  hell  of  the  enganchars."  And 
memories  of  his  quizzical  good-humor  under  reform, 
invariable  politeness,  sometime  considerate  kindness, 
flooded  the  last  touch  of  repugnance  out  of  David's 
mind. 

"Lie still,  you  old  scoundrel,"  he  said.  "Open  your 
mouth  once  more,  and  I'll  fill  it  with  quinine." 

Too  weak  for  other  protest,  he  took  medicine  like  a 
lamb,  submitted  without  a  murmur  to  a  bath  that 
was  hot  as  mustard  could  make  it,  essayed  only  one 
more  whisper  as  David  got  him  back  to  bed.  "Lock 
the  galera,  senor!" 

If  politely,  he  had  yet  consistently  opposed  what 
he  considered  the  senor's  latest  idiocy;  and  while 
David  considered  that  a  week's  trial  had  approved 
his  latest  innovation,  he  humored  him  with  a  pre 
tence  of  compliance.  Going  out,  he  sent  Tadeo  to 
bed,  then  returned  with  some  idea  of  watching.  He 
had  failed,  however,  to  reckon  with  his  own  exhaus 
tion.  He  had  no  sooner  stretched  out  on  Rafaela's 
chest  than  he  fell  asleep. 

He  did  not  wake  until  the  rising  sun  laid  a  bar  of 
yellow  across  his  eyes.  Springing  up  then,  startled, 
uneasy  from  a  sense  of  neglected  duty,  he  saw  at  a 
glance  that  his  patient  had  failed  through  the  night. 
His  nostrils  were  pinched  sharp  and  yellow  as  wax. 
But  for  his  labored  breathing  there  would  have  been 

192 


-TAKES   THE   COUNT- 

no  telling  his  stupor  from  the  quiet  of  death.  While 
pouring  brandy  between  his  teeth,  David  was  con 
scious  of  unusual  stillness,  almost  Sabbath  calm,  with 
out.  Stepping  to  the  door  later,  he  saw  neither  smoke 
at  the  cook-house  nor  heard  any  stir  about  the  galeras. 

"Lazy  beggars,"  he  thought,  as  he  walked  across 
the  galera  compound  to  rouse  the  laggards.  "Gua- 
daloupe  would  count  this  one  to  him."  And  though 
the  sunlit  silence  did  force  some  inkling  of  the  truth 
upon  him,  he  did  not  realize  how  much  it  favored 
that  disciplinarian's  labor  theories  until,  from  the 
galera  door,  he  looked  down  a  long  line  of  empty 
bunks. 

Across  them  fell  a  shadowy  lace  of  poles  and  wire 
— the  imprisoning  wire  he  had  tried  to  abolish.  The 
harsh  rustle  of  palm  thatch  on  the  eaves  without 
accentuated  the  deadly  stillness  within.  Still  only 
half  believing,  he  walked  rapidly  to  the  women's 
galera,  from  there  to  Tadeo's  hut — all  were  empty, 
and  a  glance  down  at  the  landing  showed  that  his 
small  canoe  and  three  dugouts  were  gone.  Yet  with 
the  fact  staring  him  in  the  face,  his  mind  refused  to 
accept  it,  and  sitting  down  on  the  bank  he  gazed  va 
cantly  at  the  swift-running  water. 

Yesterday  had  seen  him  centred  in  an  order  that 
seemed  fixed  and  permanent — hub  of  a  wheel  of  life, 
director  of  its  revolutions.  Only  twenty  hours  ago 
he  had  inaugurated  plans  that  ran  into  the  coming 
years.  But  while  he  slept  the  wheel  had  burst,  scat 
tering  its  units  beyond  his  scheme  of  things,  and  he 

193 


THE   PLANTER 

was  left  alone  with  a  dying  man  in  a  deserted  camp. 
Small  wonder  if  it  seemed  incredible,  or  that,  when 
perceived  intellectually,  he  should  still  be  haunted 
by  a  persistent  belief  that  his  people  must  be  at  work 
in  the  fields. 

The  hallucination  did  not,  however,  exclude  a  live 
ly  appreciation  of  immediate  consequences.  While 
not  improvident  in  his  management,  humanity  had 
caused  him  to  extend  more  than  the  usual  store 
credits,  and  as,  given  the  opportunity,  a  peon  is  al 
ways  in  debt,  the  runagates  owed  him.  The  sum 
was  not  much.  Deducting  wages  due  them,  a  month's 
salary  would  probably  square  the  deficit,  and  even  at 
this  early  stage  he  resolved  that  the  plantation  should 
not  lose  through  his  foolish  trust. 

More  serious  was  the  loss  of  time.  Holding  its 
perpetual  threat  over  the  plantation,  the  jungle 
would  now  roll  in  and  it  would  be  hard  to  overtake 
its  great  green  wave.  Then  there  was  the  ridicule! 
News  of  his  reforms  had  floated  up  and  down,  as 
cended  every  tributary,  crossed  to  other  rivers,  until 
all  the  plantation  houses  were  abuzz  with  tales  of 
the  young  fellow  who  had  started  out  to  teach  old 
hands  the  business.  What  a  ripple  of  mirth  would 
now  go  floating  after!  He  could  feel  E  wing's  good- 
natured  pity,  see  Phelps's  superior  smile,  Hertzer's 
cold  sneer;  and  these  were  only  premonitory  of  the 
vast  laugh  that  would  shake  the  Isthmus. 

But,  worst  of  all,  harder  to  bear  than  failure,  rid 
icule,  ingratitude,  was  an  illogical  but  persistent 

194 


—TAKES   THE    COUNT— 

sense  that  he  had  drawn  the  calamity  upon  himself. 
When  disaster  crushes  the  human  soul  it  turns  nat 
urally  to  introspection  to  find  a  moral  cause,  and, 
given  David's  early  training,  he  could  not  but  feel  a 
casual  connection  between  the  present  catastrophe 
and  his  last  night's  weakness. 

"I  guess  I  was  tried  in  the  balance  and  found  want 
ing,"  he  groaned  at  last;  and  there  is  no  telling  to 
what  depths  of  self-abasement  he  might  have  sunk 
if  just  then  a  voice  had  not  broken  up  his  bitter 
broodings. 

"Your  breakfast  is  ready,  senor." 

Andrea's  naked  feet  had  brought  her  to  his  elbow, 
and  now,  bright  and  fresh  from  recent  sleep,  she  stood 
smiling  down  upon  him,  the  comely  materialization  of 
the  temptation  he  had  just  abjured. 

"You!"  he  cried,  springing  up. 

In  all  consistency  he  ought  to  have  majestically 
bidden  her  "Hence!"  But  when  was  human  nature 
consistent?  Her  smile  broke  like  sunshine  upon  his 
unhappiness,  steadied  his  universe,  which  had  been 
whirling  darkly  this  last  half-hour,  gave  him  some 
thing  to  tie  to.  When  every  one  else  deserted  him 
she  had  stayed!  Temptation,  her  cowardice,  were  lost 
in  the  dazzling  flash  of  her  small  white  teeth;  her 
smiling  presence  condoned  all. 

It  would  not  have  been  difficult  for  her  to  complete 
his  conquest  just  then,  for  his  lonely  unhappiness  ren 
dered  him  peculiarly  susceptible.  But  he  was  pro 
tected  against  himself.  Behind  that  pleasant  smile 


THE    PLANTER 

her  faculties  sat  in  conclave  resembling  a  coroner's 
inquest  rather  than  a  court  of  love.  She  drew  back 
from  his  impulsive  advance.  Though  he  did  not 
notice  it,  she  kept  the  wind  between  them  walking 
to  the  house.  Instead  of  serving  him  as  usual,  she 
had  placed  everything  necessary  for  the  meal  on  the 
table  at  once,  and  she  carried  on  conversation  from 
the  door. 

"Si,  sefior."  She  nodded  assent  when  he  spoke 
of  the  desertion.  "They  have  all  run  away.  Gua- 
daloupe  always  locked  the  galeras  after  you  slept. 
Senor  Phelps  told  him  not  to  let  you — " 

"Yes?"  he  prompted,  and  she  finished: 

" — not  to  let  you  make  the  big  fool  of  your 
self." 

Here  was  a  revelation;  but  he  had  passed  beyond 
astonishment,  and  it  brought  nothing  but  a  grimace. 
"With  such  a  start,  I  suppose  it  is  no  use  trying  to 
catch  them?" 

"No,  senor,"  she  promptly  answered.  "They  are 
already  forty  miles  down-river." 

"And  Rafaela?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause.  "Where 
is  she?" 

"Gone  to  her  village,  senor.  She  crossed  the  ford 
at  daybreak." 

He  did  wonder  a  little,  both  at  the  ease  with  which 
Rafaela  had  snapped  every  tie  and  Andrea's  calm 
acceptance  of  the  fact,  for  they  bespoke  individual 
independence,  an  almost  animal  detachment  beyond 
his  comprehension.  But  it  was  only  a  flicker  of  in- 

196 


—TAKES   THE    COUNT— 

terest.  His  mind  returned  at  once  to  the  business 
on  hand.  If  pursuit  were  impossible,  new  help  could 
not  be  secured  too  soon.  In  any  case  he  needed 
advice  and  assistance. 

Her  smile  was  sufficient  answer  when  he  suddenly 
asked  if  she  would  ride  over  to  Las  Glorias  with  a 
note  to  Ewing,  and  her  delight  dominated  her  fear  so 
much  that  she  went  with  him  to  the  stable  and  stood 
by  while  he  saddled  his  beast.  The  smile  came  again 
when  his  hand  clasped  her  nude  foot  lifting  her  to  the 
saddle,  but  her  pleasure  had  issue  from  her  vanity. 
She  did  not  respond  to  the  thrill  that  went  up  his 
arm,  and  if  he  could  have  seen  her  dismount  and 
wash  the  foot  at  the  first  arroyo  the  sight  would 
have  chilled  the  warm  sense  of  companionship  which 
cheered  him  as  he  went  back  to  the  fever  hut.  As 
he  did  not  see,  she  loomed  in  the  background  of  con 
sciousness  all  day  as  a  warm  and  pleasant  feeling,  for 
his  duties  absorbed  his  active  thought.  What  of 
wood-chopping,  heating  of  water  for  mustard  baths, 
his  hands  were  full  up  to  the  moment  that  the  weird 
blast  of  a  conch-shell  brought  him  out  to  find  E wing's 
dugout  at  the  landing. 

It  was  the  first  they  had  seen  of  each  other  since 
the  rains,  and  the  planter's  face  radiated  friendliness 
as  he  gave  David  merry  greeting.  "  Hello,  Sir  Galahad ! 
You've  been  at  it  again!  You'll  excuse  me  if  I  don't 
land,  but  I  have  to  think  of  my  wife.  Anyway,  I 
don't  see  what  right  you  have  to  go  mixing  it  with 
yellow-fever.  If  it  were  one  of  ourselves  it  would 

197 


THE    PLANTER 

be  different,  but,  though  Guadaloupe's  a  fine  old  chap, 
he  has  his  own  people  to  care  for  him." 

He  nodded  at  the  tale  of  Rafaela's  desertion. 
"They  are  not  all  like  that.  Either  Phelps's  Lola 
or  Hertzer's  Rosa  would  have  stuck  it  out  to  the 
bitter  end.  It  is  not  so  bad  with  Andrea.  You 
cannot  expect  much  in  the  way  of  filial  affection  from 
children  who  are  kicked  out  to  do  for  themselves 
almost  as  soon  as  they  can  toddle.  Now,  about  your 
men :  with  canoes  and  twelve  hours'  start  you  can 
bid  them  a  long  good-bye.  The  only  thing  to  do 
is  to  wire  a  contratisto  from  San  Juan  and  have  a 
new  lot  expressed  down  —  presto,  pronto!  If  the 
trains  are  running  through — and  they  ought  by  now 
— you'll  have  them  inside  a  week.  Shut  up,  now!  It 
isn't  a  bit  of  trouble.  I'm  clean  out  of  everything 
and  had  to  go  down  to  stock  up." 

After  an  isolation  of  four  months  the  glimpse  of  a 
white  face  was  to  both  like  water  in  the  mouth  of  a 
desert  traveller,  and  after  Ewing  had  undertaken 
several  other  business  commissions,  they  still  talked 
for  the  joy  of  it,  chatted  away,  easing  the  strain  that 
has  caused  many  a  lonely  planter  to  saddle  up  and 
ride  three  days  through  the  tierra  caliente  to  have 
as  many  hours  of  speech  with  his  neighbor — talked, 
indeed,  till  a  slip  of  the  bowman's  pole  threw  the 
dugout  again  into  the  current. 

"Your  horse  made  heavy  weather  of  it,"  Ewing 
called  back  as  he  floated  away,  "so  don't  expect 
your  girl  till  to-morrow."  With  a  wave  of  the  hand 

198 


—  TAKES   THE   COUNT— 

he  passed  on  around  the  bend,  and  not  until  David 
entered  the  cabin — -where  further  encouragement 
awaited  him — did  it  occur  to  him  that  the  good  fellow 
had  never  used  so  much  as  a  single  "I  told  you  so." 

Whereas  his  patient  had  tossed  restlessly  all  day, 
he  now  lay  quiet,  and  it  did  not  require  an  experi 
enced  eye  to  detect  the  difference  between  this  natural 
sleep  and  his  previous  stupors.  He  breathed  easily, 
a  dew  of  perspiration  wet  his  brow.  When  he  awoke 
late  that  evening  his  usual  brown  twinkle  replaced 
the  fever  stare. 

"Si,  I  am  much  better,"  he  agreed,  when  David 
jubilated  over  his  performance  with  some  soup,  and 
if  he  knew  of  the  liability  of  a  second  attack  his 
dominant  politeness  prevented  him  from  throwing 
cold  water  on  his  nurse's  hope.  "Perhaps,"  he  re 
plied  to  a  prediction  that  he  would  be  up  and  out 
in  a  couple  of  days.  "Quien  sabe?" 

Next  morning  showed  still  further  improvement, 
for,  though  weak  as  a  babe,  he  awoke  in  his  usual 
voice,  and  cursed  the  runaways  with  a  variety  and 
fluency  that  he  could  hardly  have  surpassed  in  health. 
Taking  his  soup,  he  read  his  nurse  a  lesson  on  the 
treatment  of  enganchars,  asserting  that  they  were, 
one  and  all,  ungrateful  pigs,  and  what  could  one  do 
with  a  pig  but  beat  it  and  lock  it  up  in  a  sty?  In 
fact,  he  showed  such  remarkable  convalescence  that 
Andrea  was  able  to  read  a  full  bulletin  of  the  case 
from  David's  face  when  she  rode  into  camp  that 
afternoon. 

IQQ 


THE    PLANTER 

"He  is  better,  senor,"  she  said;  and  though  her 
smile  was  merely  a  reflection  of  his  own,  he  took  it 
for  genuine  feeling  and  was  pleased— both  with  it 
and  the  concern  for  his  comfort  instanced  by  her  next 
remark.  "You  must  go  to  your  own  bed  to-night." 

He  had  not  intended  it,  but  when  Guadaloupe  also 
insisted,  asserting  that  he  himself  would  sleep  till 
morning,  David  compromised  by  setting  his  alarm- 
clock  to  call  him  at  midnight.  And  the  clock  lived 
up  to  its  contract.  Its  brazen  vibrations  set  the 
night  pulsing,  startled  the  jungle  for  a  mile  around, 
roused  Andrea  to  a  repetition  of  the  choked  cough 
ing,  retching  of  nausea.  But  she  did  not  call  David, 
who  slept  through  it  all. 

As  well  that  she  did  not.  He  could  only  have 
stood  by,  a  helpless  spectator  of  the  grim  fight  the 
mandador  put  up  against  his  old  enemy,  the  death 
he  had  faced  in  many  a  mutiny,  watched  stalking 
through  his  fields.  Coming  in,  refreshed  and  cheer 
ful,  the  following  morning,  he  saw  only  the  brown 
peace  of  the  face. 

If  startled,  he  had  seen  too  much  of  death  during 
the  rains  to  hesitate.  Within  the  hour  they  carried 
the  old  fellow  out  to  his  place  at  the  head  of  his  silent 
workers;  for,  very  much  to  his  surprise,  Andrea  vol 
unteered  to  help.  Ignorant  of  her  superstition  that 
infection  ends  with  death,  her  present  conduct  wiped 
out  the  last  vestige  of  the  prejudice  inspired  by  her 
former  cowardice,  and  he  was  equally  deceived  by 
her  sudden  burst  of  sorrow  when  he  began  to  shovel 

200 


-TAKES   THE    COUNT- 

in  the  grave.  Primitive  as  the  death-howling  of  dogs, 
snorting  of  cattle  over  their  dead,  it  was  instinc 
tive  as  fear  itself  and  would  as  quickly  fade.  But 
as  he  could  only  interpret  it  in  terms  of  his  own  feel 
ing,  it  greatly  moved  him,  added  the  strong  bonds 
of  sympathy  to  her  physical  attraction.  When  they 
walked  back  to  the  deserted  camp,  a  man  and  woman 
isolated  as  Adam  and  Eve  in  Eden,  he  was  in  greater 
danger  than  at  the  moment  when  Rafaela  burst  in 
between  them. 

That  evening,  of  course,  the  shadow  of  death  lay 
between  them.  Danger  lay  in  the  days  to  come — 
days  of  bright  solitude  when  warmth  wrapped  the 
silent  camp  like  brooding  love,  and  sunlight  appeared 
as  a  reflection  of  her  golden  skin;  when  her  sleep 
breathing  floated  out  on  the  night  like  an  exhalation 
from  her  luxurious  presence;  when  Northfield  and 
the  old  life  would  recede  to  an  infinite  distance,  its 
belief  and  prejudices  be  engulfed  in  the  whirling 
vortex  of  the  present;  when  the  old  cold  ideals  of 
chastity  would  dwindle  under  the  splendor  of  tropical 
womanhood,  free,  passionate,  warm. 

A  blast  of  the  conch-shell  announced  Swing's  re 
turn  next  evening. 

"Sorry  he's  gone,"  the  planter  commented  on 
Guadaloupe's  death.  "He  was  the  best  mandador, 
bar  none,  on  the  Isthmus,  and  you'll  find  it  hard  to 
replace  him.  How  are  you  feeling?  Tired?  That's 
natural;  but  be  careful.  Don't  forget  the  quinine 

201 


THE    PLANTER 

with  your  breakfast  coffee — -twenty  grains  won't  hurt 
you  for  a  while.  If  nothing  happens  in  the  next  five 
days  you  are  all  right.  But  if  you  feel  the  least  bit 
off,  send  the  girl  over  at  once  for  me. 

"The  chances  for  men  looked  bad  at  first,"  he 
went  on,  discussing  business.  "I  wired  contratisto 
after  contratisto,  but  whether  it  was  because  the  jails 
were  all  empty,  or  that  the  peons  have  joined  the 
W.  C.  T.  U.,  not  one  of  them  had  a  man  in  stock 
save  the  Senora  Morales,  and  she  was  sick  in  bed. 
Wouldn't  do  business  at  all  till  I  wired  that  I  was 
acting  for  you.  That  fixed  it.  The  trains  are  run 
ning  again,  and,  dead  or  alive,  she'll  either  bring  or 
send  them  down  within  the  week." 

As  the  high  water  still  made  heavy  poling  up 
stream,  he  talked  only  while  his  men  landed  David's 
goods,  finishing  as  they  pushed  off  again:  "I  saw 
Hertzer  going  down,  and  he  said  that  if  he  had  known, 
he  would  have  come  over  to  lend  you  a  hand.  And 
Patricia  sends  remembrances — of  your  last  ride,  what 
ever  that  means;  she  wouldn't  tell  me — and  bids  you 
be  in  readiness  to  escort  her  over  to  our  place  as  soon 
as  the  trails  dry  a  little  more." 

Dusk  was  already  falling  over  river  and  jungle, 
which  resounded  with  the  evening  clamor  of  beasts 
and  birds,  and  after  the  heavy  canoe  had  drawn  down 
to  a  blot  on  the  livid  waters  David  went  back  to 
his  hut,  lit  a  lamp,  and  sat  down  to  write  to  his 
mother. 

He  did  not,  however,  make  much  progress.     Across 
202 


—TAKES   THE    COUNT— 

the  alley,  between  house  and  kitchen,  he  could  see 
Andrea  at  work  under  the  lamplight,  and  when,  pres 
ently,  some  reference  to  his  early  days  on  the  planta 
tion  caused  him  to  look  up  from  his  writing,  he  saw 
again,  with  the  clarity  of  his  first  impression,  the 
velvet  eyes,  red  lips,  skin  of  satin  overlaying  perfect 
arms  and  shoulders,  the  figure  that  fluxed  into  new 
moulds  at  every  movement.  The  dazzle  of  white 
teeth,  as  she  caught  his  eye,  vividly  recalled  her  first 
salutation,  "All  that  I  have  is  yours,  senor." 

Thereafter  the  letter  dragged,  and  when,  having 
finished  her  work,  she  moved  out  to  the  doorway,  he 
dropped  his  pen,  straddled  his  own  door-sill,  and  they 
fell  to  talking  just  as  they  did  during  the  long,  wet 
nights  of  the  rains  —  she  of  quaint  Zacateco  super 
stitions  and  customs,  he  of  what,  to  her,  was  far 
stranger,  the  cold  life  of  the  North.  Though  she 
was  quite  offended  when  he  doubted  her  account  of 
the  snake  which  slips  into  bed  at  night  and  puts  the 
tip  of  his  tail  in  the  baby's  mouth  while  it  steals  the 
mother's  milk;  though  she  vehemently  asserted  the 
existence  of  the  demon  ape  who  lies  in  wait  at  springs 
to  kidnap  handsome  women,  her  own  cooing  laugh 
thrilled  through  the  dusk  at  the  unbelievable  phe 
nomena  of  ice  and  snow. 

"Si,  I  am  very  foolish  that  you  tell  me  this." 

"But  it  is  true,"  he  asserted.  "And  what  about 
that  ape?" 

"That  also  is  true,  senor.  Did  he  not  run  after 
Rafaela,  my  mother?" 


THE    PLANTER 

"Poor  ape — if  he  had  caught  her,"  David  said, 
with  a  lively  recollection  of  Rafaela's  brawn. 

If  she  giggled  she  fought  none  the  less  for  the  truth 
of  her  story,  and  while  she  cited  innumerable  instances 
that  could  be  sworn  to  in  church  David  lapsed  into 
silence.  Talking  or  listening,  he  had  felt  a  stir  within 
him,  a  pulse  of  feeling  that  heralded  the  arousing  of 
that  other  David  who  had  slept  through  the  exhaust 
ing  worry  of  the  last  few  days,  and  now  it  possessed, 
obsessed  him.  Preternaturally  acute,  his  senses  ex 
tended  like  nerves  through  the  embrace  of  the  pal 
pitant  dusk;  he  thrilled  at  her  nearness.  Thought 
less,  feeling  only,  he  sat  until,  for  sheer  lack  of  an 
answer  to  her  chatter,  she  also  relapsed  into  danger 
ous  silence. 

If  her  hand  had  stolen  out  as  on  that  other  night? 
But  it  did  not,  and,  rising  presently,  she  went  in  to 
bed. 

Neither  did  she  give  him  the  material  encourage 
ment  necessary  to  overcome  his  timidity  on  the  next 
or  any  of  the  days  that  she  had  her  golden  being 
alone  with  him  —  days  when  sunlight  and  solitude, 
languor  of  dark  glances  alike  fed  his  passion,  sapped 
his  resistance.  Not  that  she  was  cold.  Her  manner 
displayed  always  enough  tenderness  to  keep  him  at 
white-heat.  Primitive  woman  that  she  was,  she  yet 
played  him  with  a  natural  coquetry,  unmasking  un 
dreamed  -  of  batteries,  bewildering  him  by  the  flash 
of  unsuspected  complexities.  She  could  be  arch,  gay, 
saucy,  and  fall  the  next  moment  into  a  warm  silence 

204 


—TAKES   THE   COUNT— 

that  was  charged  with  electricity  like  a  lull  in  a  thun 
der-storm.  Yet,  drawing  him  on,  she  still  held  him  at 
arm's-length,  until  accident  abolished  the  distance  on 
the  fourth  evening  after  the  mandador's  death. 

They  had  been  sitting  as  usual  on  their  respective 
door-steps,  and  as  she  rose  to  go  in,  stretching  mag 
nificently  in  a  yawn,  she  suddenly  remembered  that 
frijoles  were  required  to  put  in  soak  for  next  day's 
stew,  and  after  lighting  her  out  to  the  store  he  looked 
on  while  she  filled  her  calabash.  Her  flexures  bend 
ing  over  the  sack  were  supple  as  those  of  a  white  girl- 
child;  and  when,  turning,  she  waited  for  him  to  lead 
out,  he  paused  to  admire  the  picture  the  full  whites, 
deep  reds  of  her  dress  made  in  the  dusk  of  the  store; 
paused  until,  stepping  to  go  by  him,  she  tripped  on  a 
loose  end  of  rope. 

Luckily  he  had  set  the  lamp  on  the  rough  counter, 
and  he  easily  caught  her.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
lift  her  back  to  her  feet,  but  as  the  soft  fulness  of 
her  crushed  in  against  his  breast  his  muscles  tight 
ened  with  a  sudden  reflex.  He  strained  her  in  to  him 
for  one  blind  second,  for,  breaking  his  embrace  the 
next,  she  darted  out,  uttering  a  frightened  cry. 

So  violent  was  the  reaction  that  thought  stood  still ; 
he  stood  staring  blankly  at  the  empty  doorway. 
And  when,  picking  up  the  lamp,  he  went  out  and 
locked  the  door,  the  actions  were  purely  reflexes  of 
habit.  His  red,  confused  stare,  passing  Andrea's 
closed  door,  was  also  devoid  of  thought.  But  the 
moment  he  closed  his  own  door  the  wheels  began  to 

205 


THE    PLANTER 

turn,  the  slow  wheels  of  the  gods  that  move  slowly 
but  grind  exceeding  fine.  To  specify  his  thought 
would  be  wearisome  as  unnecessary.  Sufficient  that 
anger,  shame,  furious  remorse,  each  had  its  turn,  and 
after  an  hour  of  it  he  flung  outside  to  cool  his 
fever. 

There  he  found  a  copper  moon  hanging  like  a  lan 
tern  in  the  trees,  and  while  he  paced  the  bank  it 
sailed  up  over  the  sere  roofs,  flooded  the  still  camp 
with  soft  light,  touched  the  river  in  a  bar  of  silver. 
But  the  soft,  warm  peace  was  out  of  tune  with  his 
mood.  It  was  too  much  in  accord  with  the  causes 
that  had  brought  his  present  remorseful  humiliation. 
The  vast  spread  of  those  indigo  skies,  "  lasceevious " 
twinkle  of  stars,  warm  sighs  of  the  nights  had  helped 
the  shimmering  days  to  bring  him  to  this  plight. 
So  the  quiet  had  no  ease  for  his  aching  soul,  saw  no 
cess  of  his  endless  pacings.  He  walked  for  hours — 
walked,  walked,  walked  till  his  back  and  loins  ached, 
as  he  thought,  from  the  drag  of  his  leaden  legs,  till  a 
fire  of  thirst  sent  him  down  to  the  landing. 

Instead  of  cooling,  however,  water  seemed  to  feed 
his  fever,  and  a  sudden  chill  sent  him  back  to  his  hut 
to  alternately  burn  and  shiver  in  bed.  Rising  for 
another  drink  in  the  early  hours,  he  saw  in  the  glass 
that  his  eyes  were  suffused  with  blood,  his  face  yel 
lowish  pale.  But  not  until  he  was  taken  with  the 
"black  vomit,"  an  hour  later,  did  he  associate  the 
symptom  with  anything  else  than  mental  distress. 
And  even  then  a  peculiar  confusion,  mild  delirium, 

206 


—TAKES   THE   COUNT— 

debarred  him  from  all  but  the  dimmest  realization 
of  the  fact. 

"This  is  the  fifth  day,"  he  told  himself,  listlessly, 
"and  I've  got  it."  But  he  did  not  care. 

In  the  same  dreamy  way  he  sensed  the  pale  ra 
diance  that  at  dawn  slid  through  the  siding — because, 
perhaps,  it  hurt  his  inflamed  eyes.  Later  he  heard 
Andrea  stir,  but  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  call  her. 
His  own  door  stood  wide,  and  he  saw  when  she  came 
and  looked  in,  yet  he  made  no  attempt  to  attract  her 
attention.  Curiosity  had  died  with  interest,  and  the 
cry  with  which  she  drew  back  closed  his  remembrances 
for  that  day. 

Next  morning  he  was  able  to  lift  a  corner  of  the 
fever  veil  and  see  himself  staggering  from  hut  to  hut 
in  search  of  the  dead  mandador.  But  he  never  knew 
how  he  got  back  to  bed.  Connected  memories  begin 
again  as,  lying  in  the  stage  of  remission,  he  listened 
to  a  buzz  of  voices  without  the  door. 

"If  he  be  not  dead,  what  matter?"  It  was  An 
drea  speaking.  "Go  thou  in  and  secure  the  key." 

His  glance  wandered  to  the  key  of  the  store  that 
hung  on  a  nail  by  his  bed. 

"Nay,  let  us  break  in,"  a  man's  voice  objected. 
"One  stroke  of  my  machete — " 

"Si,  and  the  Gringo  pigs  will  see  the  broken  lock! 
Thou  wert  ever  a  fool,  Candelario.  Thou  knowest 
the  devil  Hertzer?  The  evil  eyes  of  him  would  find 
us  even  in  Tlacotalpan.  No,  if  the  thing  be  done  in 

207 


THE    PLANTER 

order  there  will  be  none  to  tell  that  he  did  not  sell 
the  goods  to  the  folk  of  the  village.  See!  I  will 
dip  my  kerchief  in  his  Lysol  and  wring  it  to  bind  thy 
mouth.  Nor  needst  thou  to  breathe.  It  will  be  done 
in  a  second." 

"Carajo!  no!"  The  man's  voice  was  tense  with 
fear.  "Not  for  all  of  his  store!" 

In  the  ensuing  pause  David  could  almost  sense  the 
struggle  between  cupidity  and  fear.  Then  Andrea 
burst  out:  "Coward!  Then  bind  my  mouth." 

Perfectly  clear  now,  David's  mind  grasped  not 
only  every  detail  of  the  situation,  but  flashed  back 
over  its  causes.  Andrea's  first  complaisance,  sub 
sequent  shyness,  late  reluctance  were  all  explained. 
If  he  had  escaped  the  fever  she  would  have  settled 
down  in  his  hut.  As  he  had  not,  she  was  there  to 
rob  his  death-bed  of  goods  to  stock  another  house 
keeping.  In  the  cold  light  of  which  facts  the  new 
ideal  of  tropical  womanhood — splendid,  free,  passion 
ate,  warm — shrivelled  and  shrank  to  a  selfish  mummy. 

Over  the  cloth  that  covered  her  nose  and  mouth 
her  eyes  looked  at  him  as  she  came  to  his  bed.  But 
neither  mercy  nor  shame  inhered  in  her  glance.  It 
could  not  have  fallen  more  indifferently  upon  a  dying 
dog,  and  through  the  wave  of  anger,  bitter  disgust, 
that  presently  deprived  David  of  consciousness,  he 
felt  wonder  at  its  animal  detachment.  A  tigress 
could  not  have  been  less  concerned  nosing  round  for 
prey  in  its  dead  mate's  lair. 

From  him  her  gaze  moved  to  his  gun  and  watch, 
208 


-TAKES   THE   COUNT— 

but  her  cupidity  took  counsel  with  cautious  fear. 
She  was  not  minded  to  provoke  pursuit.  Taking  the 
key  only,  she  moved  toward  the  door,  and  as  he  had 
relapsed  again  in  a  stupor,  he  did  not  see  the  bit  of 
by-play,  touch  of  superstition.  Passing  the  table,  her 
eye  fell  on  the  gilt  crucifix  emblazoned  on  the  back 
of  a  Testament,  his  mother's  gift,  and,  pausing,  she 
crossed  herself,  then  with  a  low  courtesy  passed  on 
and  out. 

Neither  did  he  hear  the  bustle  as  they  loaded  down 
Candelario's  canoe  with  the  best  goods  of  his  store — 
that,  or  her  remark  passing  out,  after  she  had  replaced 
the  key  on  its  nail: 

"He  will  surely  die  to-ni^ht." 


XIV 

BUT   COMES    BACK    SMILING 

T  \  7ITH  his  usual  contumacy,  however,  David  re- 
VY  fused  to  die. 

Not  that  Andrea  should  be  altogether  cast  for  a 
false  prophet.  Her  prediction  was  based  on  consti 
tutions  that  were  the  product  of  license  implied  by 
the  bitter  toast,  "The  tropics — flowers  without  scent, 
birds  without  song,  women  without  virtue,  men  with 
out  honor!"  and  she  was  not  to  be  blamed  for  that 
which  she  did  not  know  of  the  stern  vitality  of  New 
England.  For  David  not  only  refused  to  die,  but  even 
indulged  in  a  lively  dream  about  the  time  a  respect 
able  native  would  have  made  a  decent  exit. 

The  vision — at  first  he  thought  that  he  was  awake, 
a  phenomenon  not  uncommon  in  dreams — began  when, 
coming  out  of  his  stupor  late  that  afternoon,  he  saw 
a  trickle  of  black  in  the  doorway.  Thin  in  its  begin 
nings,  it  widened  in  half  an  hour  till  it  filled  the  jambs 
and  poured  through  the  interstices  of  the  siding  in  a 
stream  that  soon  hid  the  mud  floor  under  a  carpet  of 
quivering  jet. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  David  had  seen  army  ants. 
210 


-BUT   COMES   BACK   SMILING 

He  had  once  timed  the  flow  across  his  plantation  road 
of  a  stream  of  the  voracious  atoms.  Five  yards  wide, 
it  took  their  billions  just  twenty  hours  to  cross,  and 
he  knew  that  if  a  house  happened  to  lie  in  their  path 
they  ate  up  bugs,  roaches,  food-stuffs,  cleaned  it  of 
animal  matter,  living  or  dead.  In  one  of  their  talks 
Andrea  had  told  him  of  bed-ridden  people  who  had 
been  caught  and  eaten  alive.  But,  too  weak  and 
confused  for  any  speculation  that  required  memory 
or  thought,  he  dully  watched  the  tide  mount  stools 
and  tables,  flow  up  the  pole  siding,  wreath  palm  ribs 
and  bamboo  rafters  in  shivering  black. 

As  the  legs  of  his  catre  were  planted  in  tomato- 
cans  of  carbolized  water,  he  was  safe — for  a  time — 
and  he  displayed  a  faint  interest  in  the  rout  of  the 
vermin  out  of  the  thatch.  Fat  cockroaches,  scorpi 
ons,  tarantulas,  even  small  snakes,  swarmed  down  the 
poles,  a  grizzly  retreat,  or,  letting  go,  flopped  heavily 
upon  the  floor.  Running  out  from  under  the  catre, 
one  big  tarantula  cut  a  streaky  wake  through  the 
ants  with  his  many  legs,  on  his  way  to  the  door.  An 
elongated  scorpion  clove  them  like  a  canoe  to  the  cen 
tre,  where  a  full  dozen  of  his  kind  stood,  apparently 
dazed,  rounded  up,  a  glistening  rodeo.  But  not  until, 
glancing  up,  he  saw  dribbles  of  black  on  the  cords 
by  which  his  mosquito-netting  was  swung  from  the 
thatch  ribs,  did  he  sense  danger  for  himself. 

Even  then  his  paralysis  of  weakness  excluded  fear. 
His  stare  into  the  face  of  that  crawling  death  evi 
denced  about  the  same  amount  of  interest  a  new- 

211 


THE    PLANTER 

born  babe  displays  in  its  hovering  mother,  yet  was 
sufficient  to  keep  him  from  hearing  a  buzz  of  voices 
outside,  tramping  of  many  feet.  When  a  shadow 
suddenly  fell  in  the  doorway  he  did  turn  listless  eyes 
— upon  the  girl  of  the  train.  Then  it  was  that  he 
knew  it  all  for  a  dream,  and,  tired  out  by  the  mental 
strain  required  to  realize  that  fact,  he  relapsed  into 
another  stupor. 

Contrary  to  the  usual  practice  in  dreams,  the  fig 
ure  remained  in  the  doorway.  Also  for  a  phantom 
it  was  unusually  active,  for,  after  a  startled  glance, 
it  rushed  with  a  realistic  flutter  of  skirts  across  the 
crawling  tide  and  returned,  having  pulled  the  sheet 
over  his  face. 

"Magdaleno!     Maria!     JoseM" 

Sunk  in  his  stupor,  he  neither  heard  her  call  the 
cabos  who  were  marshalling  a  long  file  of  engan- 
chadores  into  the  galera,  her  assurances  that  the 
senor  was  ill  of  a  typhoid,  nor  felt  when  they  snatched 
up  his  catre  and  carried  him  out  to  the  store.  He 
swallowed  the  liquor  that  later  she  poured  between 
his  teeth,  but  lay  like  a  dead  man  under  her  anxious 
eyes  during  the  hours  that  it  took  Jose  and  Maria 
to  pole  down  to  La  Luna  and  bring  back  Hertzer. 
His  next  impression  was  of  the  stimulant  warmth 
that  caused  him  to  open  his  eyes  on  the  planter  who, 
while  sousing  him  in  a  mustard  bath,  cursed  him  with 
a  furious  energy  that  aroused  his  tired  soul  to  languid 
anger.  During  the  five  minutes  in  which  Hertzer 
mingled  his  sousing  and  cursing  in  equal  parts,  David 

212 


—  BUT   COMES   BACK   SMILING 

was  conscious  of  profound  deliberations  as  to  the 
proper  course  to  pursue,  and  when  Hertzer  stooped 
to  lift  him  back  to  his  bed,  he  made  an  ineffectual 
dab  at  one  of  the  many  faces  that  wobbled  about  him 
in  a  nimbus  of  profanity.  Then,  exhausted  by  the 
effort,  he  grasped  the  tub  with  both  hands,  and  sat, 
weaving  a  little,  staring  vacuously,  an  image  of  im 
potent  defiance. 

"You  would,  would  you!"  Hertzer's  grim  puck 
ers  spread  in  a  grin.  "You'll  pull  through  all  right. 
It  was  a  week  before  Meagher  could  even  sass  me 
back.  Now,  into  bed  you  go." 

His  awakening  next  morning  was  much  more  pleas 
ant,  for  then  the  girl  of  the  train  sat  by  his  bed. 
Half  turned  away  and  leaned  forward  with  hands 
clasped  around  one  crossed  knee,  her  position  gave 
him  not  only  the  remembered  tracery  of  her  delicate 
profile,  but  also  what  he  had  never  seen  before — a 
small  foot  and  pretty  ankle.  And  while  his  weakness 
reduced  his  appreciation  of  these  desired  personal 
assets  down  to  a  mild  content,  he  was  perfectly  sat 
isfied  to  lie  and  look  until,  glancing  his  way,  she  sprang 
up  with  a  cry  in  Spanish: 

"He  is  awake,  Sefior  Hertzer!  Now  he  may  have 
the  soup!" 

Withal  his  satisfaction  he  slid  into  another  sleep 
between  spoonfuls  of  soup,  and  his  disappointment 
when  he  awoke  later  and  found  that  Hertzer  had 
taken  her  place  caused  the  latter  a  saturnine  grin. 

"She  was  up  all  night,  and  she's  taking  her  sleep," 
213 


THE    PLANTER 

he  nevertheless  explained.  With  the  wink  of  a  satyr, 
he  added:  "Nice  little  girl  to  take  for  a  walk  in  the 
dark,  eh?"  Then  he  laughed  as  David  choked  on  a 
spoonful  of  milk.  "Now,  don't  get  mad.  You  are 
not  strong  enough  to  lick  me  yet." 

Feeling  that  he  was,  David  tried  to  rise. 

"Just  weakness,"  Hertzer  calmly  commented,  as 
his  head  fell  back.  "It  will  pass  off — if  you  lie  still 
and  restrain  your  blood-thirsty  desires.  That  oughtn't 
to  be  so  hard,"  he  added,  with  a  still  more  hateful 
grin.  "  You'll  have  her  every  night.  I'd  take  double 
your  risk  with  the  fever  for  one-half  your  luck." 
And,  considering  that  poor  David  had  not  said  a 
single  word,  he  finished  with  immeasurable  impu 
dence:  "Now,  you  mustn't  talk  any  more." 

To  enforce  the  command  he  moved  out  to  the  door 
and  sat  puffing  his  pipe,  a  grim  figure,  sardonically 
inflexible,  and,  with  the  exception  of  time  consumed 
by  a  mustard  bath,  he  remained  there  until  Consuela 
came  out  of  Andrea's  hut  to  take  the  night  trick. 
Then  he  fired  one  parting  shot. 

"Here  she  comes.     Now,  mind  that  you  behave." 

Through  some  freakish  law  of  nature  mortality 
from  yellow-fever  in  the  tropics  is  exactly  one  hun 
dred  per  cent,  less  than  in  cooler  and  more  northern 
zones;  with  which  two-to-one  odds  in  his  favor  it  is 
hardly  to  be  wondered  that  a  steady  lad  like  David 
should  have  won  out  to  a  reasonable  convalescence 
in  one  short  week. 

214 


—  BUT   COMES   BACK   SMILING 

If  one  were  to  sum  the  treatment  in  the  case  it 
would  have  to  be  set  down  as  an  alternation  of  irri 
tants  with  sedatives,  for  while  by  day  Hertzer  teased 
and  tormented  him  out  of  his  torpors  in  ways  similar 
to  those  above  set  forth,  stimulated  his  temper  into 
an  activity  that  really  made  for  his  physical  good, 
the  girl's  gentle  ministrations  at  night  prepared  him 
for  sound  sleep.  And  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which 
did  most  toward  his  recovery. 

"I'd  quit  if  it  hurt  him,"  Hertzer  replied,  grinning, 
to  the  remonstrances  of  Ewing,  who  rode  over  almost 
every  day;  "but  it  doesn't,  and  I  confess  I  like  the 
job.  When  I  get  through  he'll  know  a  little  more 
both  of  himself  and  the  tropics."  And  surely  nothing 
escaped  his  sharp  tongue:  David's  schemes,  his  re 
lations  with  Andrea,  former  gallantry  to  his  pretty 
nurse — each  had  its  turn. 

''Fifty  enganchars  at  seventy  per,"  he  would  muse, 
aloud.  "Or  does  la  senora  make  a  discount  for  ser 
vices  rendered?  Anyway — say  three  thousand  cold 
cash?  Pretty  stiff  for  an  experiment!  The  others 
were  all  in  your  debt,  and  you  could  easily  have  held 
them  another  six  months  —  acclimated,  too;  worth 
double  their  number  of  new  men." 

Another  time:  "Andrea  gone  on  a  visit  to  her 
mother  ?  Hum !  There'll  be  the  dickens  to  pay  when 
she  comes  back  and  finds  another  in  your — I  mean 
her  bed.  I  reckon  you  never  saw  these  Mexicans 
scrap?  They're  the  devil.  Better  take  to  the  woods 
when  they  start  in." 


THE    PLANTER 

It  was  a  similar  and  even  coarser  remark  that 
brought  an  iron-stone  soup-bowl  straight  at  his  head 
at  the  end  of  the  week.  A  quick  dodge  saved  him 
his  brains,  but  his  irritating  grin  accompanied  his 
quiet  comment:  "Couldn't  have  thrown  it  any  harder 
myself.  I  perceive,  young  man,  that  you  are  about 
recovered.  Manana  I  go  home."  And  go  he  did, 
after  flashing  a  familiar  facet  in  his  patient's  eyes. 

If  his  feelings  had  been  chafed  to  the  raw,  David 
could  not  but  feel  his  obligation,  and  he  expressed  it 
saying  good-bye.  "I'm  afraid  that  I've  been  a 
troublesome  patient,  but  I'm  deeply  grateful." 

Hertzer,  who  sat  swinging  one  leg  from  the  table, 
raised  big  shoulders.  "More  than  I'd  be.  Anyway, 
I  haven't  done  any  more  than  you  did  for  your  man- 
dador,  and  I've  done  as  much  before  for  a  nigger. 
Besides,"  he  carelessly  added,  "I'm  well  paid.  Wait 
till  you  see  my  bill." 

"Bill?"  David  echoed. 

"For  maize  and  frijoles.  There  wasn't  a  kernel 
of  either  in  your  store,  and  as  the  men  couldn't  very 
well  browse  on  rubber,  I  had  my  fellows  bring  up 
twenty  arrobas  of  each." 

Not  to  mention  the  beans  owed  him  by  Phelps, 
David  had  counted  five  other  sacks  and  seven  of 
corn  while  holding  the  light  for  Andrea.  "Why-—" 
he  began,  then  stopped.  A  feeling  of  shame  had 
kept  him  silent  upon  the  piracy  that  deepened  the 
treachery  of  her  desertion;  to  which  item,  already 
charged  to  experience,  he  had  now  to  add  Hertzer' s 

216 


-BUT   COMES    BACK   SMILING 

audacious  trading.  Forty  arrobas?  Almost  six  tons. 
Provisions  for  a  year.  And  he  could  not  refuse — 
under  the  circumstances. 

"It  was  awfully  good  of  you,"  he  said,  turning  a 
cheerful  face  to  the  inevitable.  And,  offering  his  hand, 
he  went  on:  "But  that  doesn't  cancel  my  personal 
debt.  You  undoubtedly  saved  my  life." 

A  vivid  sparkle,  cold  as  the  glint  of  ice,  lit  Hertzer's 
gray  eyes.  He  sat,  neither  moving  nor  speaking, 
yet  his  posture  expressed  a  cold  and  significant  tri 
umph.  "I  told  you  not  to  forget  that  it  was  you 
who  refused  your  hand,"  he  said,  at  last.  "As  for 
your  life  —  we'll  wipe  that  off  the  slate.  It  may  be 
that  I  didn't  want  death  to  beat  me  to  it — or  I  may 
have  further  use  for  you.  Until  then — good-bye." 

He  paused,  however,  as  just  then  Consuela  entered 
the  hut.  Of  all  his  tormentings — and  he  knew  it — 
David  had  chafed  most  at  a  calculated  freedom,  half 
insolent,  half  admiring,  in  his  manner  to  her.  Ad 
dressing  her,  he  invariably  used  the  "tu"  which  Span 
ish  custom  accords  only  to  relatives  and  intimate 
friends.  As  now,  saying  good-bye,  he  always  tried 
to  look  in  her  eyes. 

To  David  it  seemed  that  she  hesitated  before  giving 
her  hand.  He  could  not  mistake  her  flush ,  the  jerk  with 
which  she  pulled  it  away.  But,  with  a  laugh,  Hertzer 
passed  out,  and  a  few  minutes  later  his  voice  floated  up 
from  the  river  in  a  raucous  attempt  at  "Coronation": 

"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall — " 
is  217 


THE    PLANTER 

Until  the  discordance  died  in  the  distance  the  girl 
busied  herself  with  the  soup  she  had  brought  in. 
When  she  turned,  the  fires  of  shame  had  given  place 
to  a  pallor  that  intensified  the  storm  in  her  eyes. 

"Why  did  he  do  that?"  And  before  he  could 
answer:  "Was  it  because  I  am  Mexican?  I  have 
heard  that  the  Americanos  despise  us." 

"No,  no!     It  was  because  of  me." 

In  his  haste  to  soothe  her  wounded  pride  he  hardly 
bettered  the  case,  for  she  coldly  questioned:  "Because 
of  you?  Why?" 

He  saw  at  once  how  easily  she  could  construe  his 
explanation  into  a  second  familiarity.  She  was  look 
ing  steadily  at  him,  and  the  slight  resentment  in  her 
glance  threw  him  into  wild  confusion.  "Because — 
because" — his  stammering  tongue  served  him  well 
by  blurting  out  the  truth — "because  he  knew  that  he 
couldn't  hurt  me  more." 

As  she  bent  again  over  the  soup  he  did  not  see  her 
smile.  "Why  should  he  think  that  of  you?  —  you 
who — " 

She  got  no  further.  Apologies  and  explanations 
of  the  kiss  he  had  sent  after  her  down  the  river  had 
burned  the  point  of  his  tongue  these  three  days,  and 
he  plunged  at  the  opportunity.  Translated  literally, 
he  made  a  sad  mess  of  it,  what  of  his  boggling  Span 
ish;  but,  after  all,  the  function  of  language  is  to  ex 
press  feeling,  and  she  could  not  mistake  his  earnest 
sincerity.  If  she  let  him  blunder  along,  her  next 
remark  proves  that  it  was  because  she  liked  it,  and 

2lS 


—  BUT   COMES    BACK   SMILING 

she  cut  him  off  with  a  merry  laugh  as  soon  as  she 
sensed  his  real  distress. 

"It  is  nada,  sefior.  Already  the  Senor  Ewing 
told  me  of  that  wild's  girl's  trick.  At  first  I  was 
angry.  But  my  mother  said:  'Consuela  thou  art  a 
fool!'  And  when  I  remembered — "  She  swept  away 
with  a  pretty  gesture  the  months  that  lay  between 
them  and  the  train.  "But  now  you  must  take  this — 
and  go  to  sleep." 

"If  you  also  will  go  to  your  rest,"  he  stipulated. 
"You  must  be  worn  out  by  so  much  night-watching." 

Small  hands  and  pretty  shoulders  alike  repudiated 
the  suggestion.  "I  took  my  sleep  during  the  day. 
I  shall  sit  in  the  doorway  and  sew  till  you  sleep." 

He  would  have  much  preferred  to  talk,  but  if  her 
rest  depended  upon  his,  silence  was  obligatory.  He 
made  up  for  it,  however,  by  studying  from  under 
lowered  lids  the  rich  face,  dark  lashes  that  swept  its 
deep  bloom  as  she  bent  over  her  sewing.  With  feel 
ings  that  oscillated  between  pain  and  pleasure  he 
watched  her  needle  slip  in  and  out,  for  after  the  ants' 
house-cleaning  he  had  been  brought  back  to  his  own 
hut,  and  he  could  not  but  remember  that  Andrea 
had  sat  in  the  same  place  not  more  than  a  week  ago. 

It  is  possible  for  a  nature  of  natural  fineness  to 
realize  the  repentant  disgust  of  sated  license  without 
having  undergone  the  actual  physical  degradation, 
and  the  contrast  between  this  girl's  clean  delicacy 
and  the  Zacateca's  luxurious  animality  caused  David 
some  such  feeling.  He  sickened  at  the  memory  of 

219 


THE    PLANTER 

his  weakness.  In  her  pure  presence  the  glamour 
faded  from  Phelps's  logic,  dissolved  like  gilt  in  acid, 
exposing  the  base  metal  beneath;  and  David  stood, 
head  hanging,  convicted  by  her  virtue,  for  that  stren 
uous  conscience  of  his  would  not  admit  him  to  plead 
in  exculpation  the  accident  that  had  saved  him  from 
physical  guilt. 

"I'd  have  done  it!"  he  groaned,  inwardly.  "I'd 
have  done  it!" 

It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  thus  suffered.  But 
whereas  the  mental  confusion  which  attends  the  first 
stages  of  yellow  -  fever  had  previously  reduced  his 
impression  to  a  vague  mental  distress,  his  mind 
worked  to-night  with  its  usual  clearness.  He  won 
dered  what  she  would  think  if  she  knew,  and  so 
looked  up  from  the  black  depths  which  are  reserved 
for  young  men  in  love  to  the  lit  pinnacles  upon  which 
she  sat  so  quietly — looked,  despaired,  and,  despairing, 
essayed  the  first  step  to  climb  the  heights. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  never  thanked  her 
for  bringing  his  men  down. 

"Not  asleep?"  She  turned  as  he  spoke,  gave  him 
the  equivalent  in  Spanish  for  "one  good  turn  deserves 
another,"  and,  after  a  hesitation,  went  on:  "It  was 
the  mercy  of  God  that  I  did.  And  surely  He  directed 
me,  caused  me  to  change  my  first  resolve." 

"You  thought  you  would  not?"  he  asked,  as  she 
paused. 

She  nodded,  bending  again  over  her  sewing,  but  con 
tinued,  after  a  few  stitches:  "I  have  learned  many 

220 


-BUT   COMES    BACK   SMILING 

things  in  the  last  year,  sefior — ugly  things,  greater 
wickedness  than  I  had  thought  the  whole  world  held." 

Pausing  again,  she  went  on,  turning  her  face  so 
that  he  could  not  see  its  quivering  earnestness:  "I 
have  sometimes  wondered  what  you  must  think  of  a 
girl  who  could  lend  herself  to  the  engancharing  of 
ignorant  peons.  But  I  would  have  you  to  believe 
that  up  to  a  few  months  ago  I  did  not  know.  In 
Ciudad  Mexico  our  men  are  well  fed  and  cared  for — 
have  to  be,  or  we  could  not  contract  them — and  you 
yourself  have  read  the  indentures — 'in  all  things  the 
enganchador  shall  receive  from  the  administrator 
of  the  plantation  the  gentle  treatment  a  father  ac 
cords  to  his  child.'  I  believed  it,  sefior — believed  it 
true  of  the  thousands  who  went  through  our  galera. 
I  thought  what  happy  employments  these  must  be 
when  none  ever  returned,  and  so  honored  my  mother 
as  an  instrument  of  great  good  in  providing  work 
for  the  poor.  I  believed  in  it  until,  going  from  plan 
tation  to  plantation  last  year,  I  saw  the  cruel  labor, 
sickness,  stripes — met,  in  miserable  remnants,  the  liv 
ing  skeletons  of  our  careless  happy  ones.  After  that 
the  bread  on  my  mother's  table  smelled  of  their  blood 
and  sweat.  I  could  not,  would  not,  eat  it. 

"What  could  I  do?  Ten  years  ago — nothing.  Ciu 
dad  Mexico  is  a  city  of  half  a  million,  and  with  the 
coming  of  the  Americano  there  has  been  great  busi 
ness,  stores,  markets,  railways  that  give  employment 
to  girls  of  education.  So  while  by  day  I  served  in  a 
store,  by  night  I  studied  English  and  book-keeping, 

221 


THE    PLANTER 

as  now  do  many  Mexican  girls.  And  soon  I  shall  take 
a  better  position." 

She  would  "take  a  better  position"?  Even  in 
Spanish  it  sounded  so  commercial,  was  so  utterly  at 
variance  with  her  rich  beauty,  that  he  had  to  repress 
a  laugh.  "Then  you  speak  some  English?" 

"A  little,"  she  admitted,  with  the  prettiest  of  ac 
cents,  and  though  she  had  not  been  cut  off,  like  him 
self,  from  all  communication  with  her  own  tongue, 
her  knowledge,  as  revealed  in  further  conversation, 
proved  almost  equal  to  his  of  Spanish. 

"But  you  thought  you  would  not  come  down?" 
he  said,  returning  from  these  divergences.  "What 
made  you  alter  your  mind?" 

She  laughed,  a  merry  peal  strongly  reminiscent 
of  the  damsel  who  had  teased  him  so  unmercifully 
upon  the  train.  "Ah,  senor,  your  fame  has  carried 
even  to  Ciudad  Mexico.  Every  contra tisto  who  has 
delivered  men  in  the  states  of  Chiapas,  Oaxaca,  or 
Vera  Cruz  in  the  last  six  months  has  brought  back 
tales  of  your — " 

"Follies?" 

"Humanities,"  she  quietly  finished. 

"Any  name  that  pleases  you,"  he  said,  a  little  bit 
terly.  "The  fact  remains — they  have  put  me  in  a 
pretty  hole." 

"Hole?"  Her  brows  arched,  and  when  he  had  ex 
plained  the  colloquialism  she  commented:  "Ungrate 
ful  they  were,  but  still  more  cowardly.  Now,  see!  I 
waited  until  you  were  stronger  to  tell  you  this.  Five 

222 


—  BUT   COMES    BACK   SMILING 

of  your  old  men  are  back  in  the  galera,  and  I  do  not 
believe  they  would  have  ever  run  away  if  they  had 
not  been  afraid  of  the  fever." 

"Five  — of  my  old  gang?"  he  repeated,  incredu 
lously. 

Nodding,  she  told  how  she  had  picked  them  up, 
starving,  at  a  station  a  hundred  kilometres  up  the 
line.  Already  they  had  regretted  their  desertion,  and 
with  a  little  urging  they  had  told  all — how,  roused 
by  Rafaela's  cry,  they  had  fled,  like  her,  as  soon  as 
David  slept;  the  overcrowding  that  had  driven  them 
ashore  at  the  railroad  bridge;  their  belief  that  all 
would  have  come  back  if  the  canoes  had  not  fur 
nished  the  opportunity  to  stray  too  far.  Great  news 
for  him,  strong  meat  for  a  convalescent,  but  the  glow 
it  brought  to  his  cheek  was  not  of  fever. 

"And  you  knew  fever  was  on  this  plantation?"  he 
questioned,  after  a  silence. 

"Merely  that  the  mandador  was  sick,  but — " 

"But?" 

"I  knew  you,  senor.     And  it  proved  as  I  thought." 

She  had  come  over  to  the  bed,  and  he  broke  a 
second  glowing  pause  by  thrusting  out  his  hand. 
"You  are  a  brick!" 

"'A  brick'?"  Her  brows  rose  again  in  pretty 
puzzle.  "It  is  with  that  you  build  the  wall?"  And 
the  merry  peal  came  again  when,  after  five  minutes 
of  his  best  Spanish,  plus  her  English,  the  compliment 
was  finally  charted. 

"  You  said  five  ?"  he  questioned,  returning  to  her  news. 
223 


THE    PLANTER 

"Five,  and  I  believe  more  will  come  in." 

"If  I  could  believe  that,"  he  mused,  "I  think— I 
think — I  could  try  again." 

"You  must,  or — I  shall  be  sorry  that  I  brought 
them.  And  now  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"Yes — I  can  sleep — now,"  he  gratefully  answered. 

And  sleep  he  did — and  dream,  with  more  or  less 
success,  of  scaling  the  aforesaid  pinnacle. 


XV 

CANCER    SUSTAINS    A    REVERSE 

OTILL,  two  days  later,  David  awoke  from  the 
O  sound  sleep  induced  by  his  first  attempt  at  ex 
ercise  to  find  Ewing  smiling  in  at  the  door. 

"Lazy  beggar,"  the  planter  said,  as  he  tossed  a 
bundle  onto  the  bed.  "When  you  have  climbed  into 
these  clean  togs  I  shall  be  proud  to  lend  you  my  arm 
as  far  as  the  landing.  Until  then  you  will  pardon  me 
if  I  'ware  your  germ-infested  presence  and  stay  out 
side.  Hurry,  as  the  hero  says  to  the  girl,  for  the 
canoe  waits." 

"Canoe?"  David  began.     "But—" 

"But  me  no  'buts,'  sir.  From  the  mouths  of  two 
women  the  edict  hath  gone  forth  and  may  not  be 
gainsaid.  You  are  to  repair  with  me  to  Las  Glorias, 
there  to  be  petted,  coddled,  and  otherwise  made  much 
of  till  you  shall  have  attained  your  usual  rude  health. 
The  Senor  Magdaleno  has  volunteered  to  care  for 
the  plantation,  with  a  guarantee  from  his  mistress; 
and  to  relieve  that  expression  of  sudden  doubt  I  will 
add  that  she  is  to  accompany  you  as  soon  as  she  has 
arrayed  herself  in  a  change  of  Mrs.  Ewing's  clothes. 

225 


THE   PLANTER 

Ah,  such  an  ingenuous  blush!     So  soon?    But  I  forget 
— there  was  a  previous  acquaintance." 

Dodging  a  boot,  he  poked  in  his  head  again  to  hurl 
a  stage  defiance.  "Sir-r-r-r!  I  shall  await  you  at 
the  corner." 

Just  as  David  finished  dressing,  his  whisper  came 
through  the  siding.  "  Here  she  comes!  Hurry,  Davy, 
hurry!  A  vision!  A  dream!  Peaches!  Peaches! 
Lovely  peaches!  I  thought  that  would  bring  you." 

As  the  girl  approached  from  Tadeo's  hut,  where 
she  had  gone  to  change,  David's  eyes  paid  like  hom 
age.  Declaring  that  nothing  was  good  enough  for 
her  to  wear,  Mrs.  Ewing  had  sent  her  best  white 
dress,  and  besides  framing  and  accentuating  the 
creams,  deep  blooms  of  the  rich  face,  the  pretty  cos 
tume  was  a  perfect  fit — according  to  tropical  ideals. 
For  no  white  woman  can  live  among  the  Tehuanas, 
watch  them  move  under  their  loose  draperies,  with 
the  upright  grace  of  a  swinging  palm,  without  losing 
her  taste  for  the  bursting-tight  over-corseted  Eu 
ropean  styles.  Avoiding  either  extreme,  the  dress 
effected  a  compromise  which,  graceful  in  line,  yet 
clung  more  closely  than  Consuela's  usual  wear.  Al 
ready  she  had  bestowed  several  doubtful  glances 
on  the  reflection  in  Tadeo's  three  inches  of  cracked 
mirror.  Now  her  frank  eyes  looked  appealing  from 
under  the  lingerie  hat  that  replaced  her  mantilla. 
But  she  gained  ease  with  a  candid  question. 

"How  do  I  look?" 

"Immense." 

226 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

It  was  Ewing  who  spoke,  but  David's  glance  ex 
pressed  much  more,  and,  touched  in  some  spring  of 
coquetry,  she  flashed  at  once  from  his  grave  and 
gentle  nurse  into  the  laughing  torment  of  the  train. 
Though  she  took  his  other  arm,  lent  all  her  young 
strength  to  his  support,  she  rallied  him  all  the  way 
down  to  the  landing. 

"Don  David  did  not  speak?  Since  the  letter  of 
yesterday  he  can  see  only  the  fair  Americana  he  left 
at  home  in  Gringoland.  She  was  well,  I  hope  —  and 
happy?" 

No  longer  at  the  mercy  of  an  interpreter,  David 
could  make  a  better  defence,  and  remembering  his 
last  experience  he  wisely  stuck  by  the  truth.  "Very 
happy — with  her  husband." 

"Married?  The  heartless!  Poor  Don  David !  No 
wonder  he  had  such  a  disgusto." 

David  had  really  done  some  glooming  over  certain 
strictures  of  his  mother's  anent  his  lack  of  charity 
toward  Mr.  Osgood,  his  philanthropist  and  friend. 
But  whereas  six  months  ago  he  would  have  stated 
the  strict  truth,  he  now  merely  nodded.  "Yes.  You 
see,  she  has  only  been  married  two  months,  and  the 
wound  is  still  bleeding." 

They  had  just  taken  their  seats  astern  and,  a  little 
startled  by  his  seriousness,  she  gave  him  a  quick 
glance.  Then,  seeing  his  smile,  she  turned  with  a 
laugh  at  her  own  discomfiture  to  watch  the  boatmen, 
and  was  too  busy  thereafter  for  further  badinage, 
noting  and  commenting  with  the  fresh  delight  of  a 

227 


THE    PLANTER 

town-bred  girl  on  the  new  vistas  that  opened  at  every 
bend. 

While  she  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands,  at  the 
slow  flappings  of  a  great  white  heron,  peered  down 
at  the  fish  lazily  moving  in  warm  limpidity,  chattered 
gayly  with  Ewing,  David  looked  quietly  on.  Was  it 
not  for  him  a  dream  come  true — the  waking  dream 
that  preceded  sleep  the  night  he  had  lain  out  in  the 
jungle  awaiting  the  runaway  Yaqui.  Under  over 
hanging  vegetation,  past  gleaming  sand  play  as  where 
alligators  took  their  torrid  nooning,  with  always  the 
broidered  screen  of  the  jungle  on  either  hand,  he  was 
floating  with  her.  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  spoke 
twice  in  the  three  hours  required  to  make  Swing's 
landing. 

Though  the  house  stood  half  a  mile  away  from  the 
river,  the  wailing  conch-shell  had  brought  Mrs.  Ewing 
down  to  meet  them.  About  twenty-five,  she  pos 
sessed  the  unusual  combination  of  golden  hair  with 
dark-brown  eyes.  Over  the  middle  height  of  women, 
she  was  built  proportionately,  yet  through  her  deli 
cacy  of  feature  conveyed  an  impression  of  slightness. 
As  Ewing  was  wont  to  put  it:  you  would  think  her  a 
sylph  till  she  stepped  on  the  scales.  And  sylph  she 
was  in  all  else  that  goes  into  the  conception — grace 
of  manner  and  movement,  sweet  temper,  modesty, 
the  pleasant  tact  that  accorded  so  well  with  her  re 
fined  face  and  put  the  strange  girl  at  once  at  her  ease. 
Lacking  even  a  trace  of  reserve,  patronage,  or  the 
effusiveness  with  which  many  a  well-meaning  woman 

228 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A   REVERSE 

would  have  damned  the  occasion,  her  manner  dis 
played  that  frank  impulse  toward  friendship  which, 
natural  with  men,  is  so  rare  in  the  greetings  of  women. 
Not  that  she  omitted  the  swift  feminine  glance  that 
pierces  beautiful  clothes  and  smiling  surfaces  to  the 
core  of  the  soul  beneath.  But,  satisfied,  she  put  her 
all  into  welcome. 

"I'm  dying  to  gossip,  so  you  men  had  better  walk 
on  ahead,"  she  said,  slipping  an  arm  about  the  girl. 

And  gossip  she  did,  a  perfect  ripple  of  talk — not 
alone,  if  one  judge  by  the  silver  of  answering  laughter 
which  caused  Ewing  to  smile  at  David.  "They  seem 
to  be  hitting  it  off  first  rate." 

The  oldest  and  biggest  of  the  plantations  on  the 
Amarilla,  the  cleared  acreage  of  Las  Glorias  was  so 
great  that  it  looked  like  a  section  of  rolling  prairie. 
It  was  hard  to  believe  that  the  jungle,  which  loomed 
miles  away  as  a  low  green  wall,  had  ever  come  down 
to  the  river.  Fully  a  thousand  acres  rolled  in  green 
pasture  dotted  with  the  darker  verdure  of  oaks,  great 
sabers,  palms  which  Ewing  had  spared  in  the  clearing, 
out  of  which  rose  the  golden  roofs  of  the  house  and 
work  buildings — a  perfect  village.  With  cattle  wan 
dering  at  will  over  its  checker  of  sunshine  and  cloud 
shadow,  it  were  easy  to  imagine  it  some  great  North 
ern  estate  enriched  with  tropical  flora. 

"It  ought  to  look  fine,"  Ewing  answered  David's 
exclamation.  "We  have  sunk  half  a  million  gold 
in  it  already,  and  for  want  of  anything  else  to  do  will 
go  on  sinking  as  long  as  the  faith  of  the  instalment 

229 


THE    PLANTER 

stockholder  hangs  out.  It  all  depends  on  him. 
And  really.  Davy,  he's  the  miracle  of  the  ages.  Just 
pause  and  think!  During  seven  hot  months  the 
plantations  are  littered  with  monte  a  foot  deep,  refuse 
so  dry  as  to  be  almost  explosive.  A  cigarette  -  stub 
thrown  carelessly  aside,  and  — pouf!  half  a  million 
gone  up  in  smoke.  But  though  we  are  at  the  mercy 
of  any  volunteer  possessed  of  a  match  and  a  grouch, 
though  the  jungle  would  roll  back  to  the  river  if  we 
ceased  operations  for  six  months,  come  drought, 
come  flood,  come  fire,  the  stockholder  goes  on  pingling 
up  his  driblets." 

Shrugging  impatiently,  he  continued:  "The  thought 
of  it  makes  me  mad.  For  it's  the  sublimation  of 
idiocy;  the  poor  devil  can  never  get  back  his  own. 
When  Uncle  Sam  investigated  us  after  the  Rubero 
fraud,  the  consul-general  stayed  here  a  day,  and  he 
told  me  that  he  had  not  found  one  plantation  but  was 
over-capitalized.  Putting  it  coldly,  we  hadn't  the 
goods  to  show  for  the  money.  And  he  told  no  lie. 
Take  these  miles  of  open  land.  They  were  once 
planted.  We  only  put  on  the  cattle  after  the  grass 
killed  off  the  rubber.  Yet  every  acre  represents  an 
investment,  and  ought  to  be  carrying  four  hundred 
six-year-old  trees.  Of  growing  rubber  we  haven't 
enough  to  cover  a  quarter  of  our  issued  stock." 

"But — that  sounds  queer?"  David  questioned. 
."  You  don't  mean  to  say — " 

"No,  it  wasn't  premeditated.  Intentional  ras 
cality  has  been  the  exception.  The  fault  lies  here: 

230 


CANCER    SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

starting  out,  we  all  underestimated  expenses  of  clear 
ing,  maintenance,  and  no  allowance  was  charged 
against  probable  loss.  Coming  down  to  bed-rock" 
(in  almost  the  same  words  he  repeated  the  verdict 
the  conductor  had  cast  against  the  business  on  the 
train),  "the  business  is  individual  as  corn  or  cotton 
raising,  and  requires  the  economical  care  of  a  planter- 
owner.  In  the  long  run  it  will  come  down  to  that — 
after  we  have  all  gone  into  the  hands  of  the  receiver. 
In  the  mean  time  we  have  got  to  do  the  best  we  can, 
and  trust  that  not  too  many  widows  and  orphans 
show  up  at  our  funeral.  Rubero  was  simply  awful. 
Against  a  capitalization  of  two  million,  gold,  they 
could  only  set  seventy  thousand,  Mex,  in  assets,  and 
their  stockholders  were  mostly  women,  small  store 
keepers,  and  country  school-ma'ams.  Gives  me  a 
cold  sweat  every  time  I  think  of  it." 

"But  how  can  they  be  so  blind?  I  thought  a 
stockholders'  committee  visited  the  plantation  every 
year?" 

Ewing  laughed.  "Oh,  the  inspectors?  Yes,  they 
come  down  with  the  manager,  and  what  of  wine- 
parties,  tiger-shoots,  and  other  junketings,  it  is  hard 
to  get  them  out  to  the  plantations  long  enough  to  be 
snap-shotted  under  our  largest  tree.  As  for  their 
reports — I'll  let  you  read  the  last.  Even  the  man 
ager  had  to  hide  his  blushes."  As  they  turned  in 
under  an  avenue  of  palms  that  led  up  to  the  house,  he 
finished:  "There's  nothing  picayune  about  our  office. 
It  knows  how  to  treat  people." 


THE   PLANTER 

In  appearance  and  appointments  the  house  testified 
to  the  same  lavish  expenditure.  A  wide  frame  bun 
galow,  its  palm  thatch  and  spreading  eaves  kept  it  in 
touch  with  the  prospect  which  ran  uninterruptedly 
down  to  the  river.  Tropical  fashion,  the  bedrooms 
opened  out  on  the  spacious  veranda,  wire-screened 
throughout  its  length.  The  big  living-room  took  up 
all  one  end,  and  was  well  furnished  with  a  massive 
table  and  sideboard,  a  desk,  chairs,  lounges — all  of 
rare  tropical  hard -woods  made  up  by  a  cabinet 
maker  whom  Ewing  had  retrieved  from  among  his 
enganchars.  Its  walls  were  covered  with  trophies — 
a  big  alligator-skin  hung  over  the  sideboard  opposite 
a  twenty- foot  python,  the  brown  and  yellows  of 
which  shone  out  from  a  scarlet  mount.  Jaguar- 
skins  served  for  mats,  and  the  bright  zarapes  on  the 
lounges  pleasantly  relieved  the  sombre  tints  of  floor 
and  walls;  lying  on  one  of  which  David  could  see 
flowers,  trees,  a  vista  of  flashing  river,  through  any 
of  the  half-dozen  casement  windows. 

"My  house  is  yours."  Entering,  Mrs.  Ewing  gave 
them  the  usual  Spanish  welcome.  With  a  spice  of 
mischief  she  added:  "You  can  settle  on  a  division 
while  I  go  out  and  see  about  dinner." 

"Armadillo!  Armadillo!"  she  came  back  chant 
ing.  "Did  you  ever  taste  it,  David?  It  is  delicious. 
And  the  armor  makes  a  beautiful  body  for  a  man 
dolin.  I've  ordered  the  cook  to  scrape  it  for  you, 
Consuela." 

It  had  been  a  hard  day — for  David.  But,  if  tired, 
232 


CANCER   SUSTAINS    A   REVERSE 

he  performed  creditably  at  dinner,  his  first  well- 
cooked  meal  since  his  last  visit  before  the  rains. 
Not  to  mention  the  armadillo — which  proved  tooth 
some  as  the  sucking-pig  it  resembled — a  soup,  roast 
beef,  and  real  potatoes,  he  could  have  dined  royally 
on  the  home-made  bread.  There  was  joy,  too,  lux 
uriously  aesthetic,  in  the  glass,  silver,  china,  quiet 
service  of  the  two  Tehuanas  in  chemisettes  and 
starched  shirts  whom  Mrs.  Ewing  had  trained  for  the 
table.  What  of  the  pleasant  comfort  of  it  all,  he  fell 
asleep  over  his  coffee. 

"Tired  little  boys  must  go  to  bed."  Mrs.  Ewing 
laughed  at  his  apology.  "Take  him  away,  Frank.  .  .  . 
And  you?"  She  turned  to  Consuela  as  the  men  went 
out.  "You  must  be  dreadfully  tired.  I'm  going  to 
make  you  retire  early  to-night.  Come,  I'll  show  you 
your  room." 

To  the  good-night  at  the  door  she  added:  "We  can 
never  thank  you  enough  for  what  you  have  done 
for  our  friend.  .  .  .  No,  we  have  not  known  him  long. 
Only  since  he  came  down."  Then  she  gave  the 
wife's  best  reason  for  a  liking.  "But  Frank  swears 
by  him.  Thinks  he's  the  finest  boy  he  ever  knew — 
so  good  and  kind." 

Consuela  had  paused,  a  hand  on  the  door,  and  both 
stood  for  a  few  moments  smiling,  reluctant  to  part. 
Then  she  threw  the  door  wide.  "  Won't  you  come  in  ?" 

"I'd  love  to."  And  with  her  warm  acceptance, 
the  seal  of  the  bedroom  chat  was  placed  on  their 
growing  intimacy. 

233 


THE    PLANTER 

Emerging  a  long  hour  later  with  a  soft  good-night, 
Mrs.  Ewing  steered  straight  for  a  blue  haze  in  the 
dusk  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda.  "And  oh, 
Frank,"  she  said,  as  she  slid  to  his  knee,  "you  should 
see  her  hair.  A  perfect  cloud !  So  fine  and  long!" 

"I'd  like  to.     If  you  think  she  wouldn't  mind — " 

Having  pulled  his  ears,  she  continued:  "Did  you 
notice  her  Spanish?  Pure  Castiliah,  with  the  lisp  and 
sound  of  the  double  I.  I  wondered  how  it  was  pos 
sible  for  that  brown  old  woman  to  be  her  mother, 
and  it  seems  she's  not.  Her  father  married  twice, 
and  because  his  people  treated  him  shabbily — I  sup 
pose  because  of  the  second  mesalliance — she  stayed 
with  her  step-mother  after  his  death.  And  now  she 
earns  her  own  living — sells  opals,  lace,  and  leather- 
work  to  horrid  American  tourists  in  one  of  those 
stores  on  Calle  San  Francisco." 

"Don't  go  back  on  your  countrymen,  my  dear," 
Ewing  warned. 

"Well,  they  are  horrid.  She  told  me  just  now 
that  the  men  snap-shoot  her  to  her  face,  and  one 
woman  took  hold  of  her  hair  and  asked  if  it  was  all 
her  own.  What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"Merely  confirms  a  previous  belief  that  all  tourists 
should  be  shot  at  the  frontier,"  he  laughed.  "Like 
you,  I  couldn't  help  feeling  the  girl's  breeding,  and 
I'm  glad,  for  Davy's  sake,  that  the  old  lady  isn't  her 
mother." 

"  What  ?     You  don't  surely  think—" 

"I  do,"  he  interrupted,  a  little  dryly.  "But  why 
234 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

that  touch  of  apprehension?  I  thought  you  liked 
her?" 

"I  do.  She's  just  as  dear  and  sweet,  but — on  a 
question  of  marriage  !  Don't  look  so  cross,  Frank. 
I  can't  help  my  feelings.  It  may  be  only  racial 
prejudice — " 

"Haven't  you  lived  here  long  enough,  Nell,  to 
forget  the  vulgar  American  conception  of  Mexico — 
a  knife,  heat,  sand,  guitars,  and  garlic?  Than  Mex 
ican  good  society,  there's  nothing  finer  in  the  world. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  what  happened  to  Hale?  He 
was  a  classmate  of  mine — nice  fellow  and  well-bred, 
as  it  goes  with  us.  When  he  came  down  to  take  the 
sub  -  consulship  in  Vera  Cruz  he  brought  letters  to 
some  Mexican  families,  and  they  let  him  into  their 
circle — for  a  while.  And  he  never  did  quite  know 
why  they  eventually  threw  him  out.  Whether  he 
pressed  a  girl  a  shade  too  closely  dancing,  or  com 
mitted  some  other  slight  barbarism,  he  was  dropped; 
and  here's  where  I  come  to  my  point.  Instead  of 
firing  him  point-blank,  with  no  end  of  smoke,  in  our 
unpleasant  fashion,  it  was  done  quietly,  by  such  im 
perceptible  degrees  that  he  never  realized  it  till  he 
found  himself  out  in  the  cold  world  beyond  their 
social  pale.  Little  by  little  the  invitations  dwin 
dled,  till  they  came  not  at  all.  Though  the  men 
fraternized  with  him  on  the  street,  he  was  never 
again  invited  to  meet  their  women.  Now,  that  sort 
of  thing  is  a  cut  above  us — the  delicate  consideration. 
It's  the  product  of  a  thousand  years  of  Spanish  cult- 

235 


THE    PLANTER 

ure.  And  coming  back  to  Davy:  if  you  once  grant 
this  girl's  birth  and  breeding,  he'll  be  mighty  lucky 
to  get  her.  But  come  on  to  bed.  I  can  safely  leave 
her  to  finish  your  conquest." 

"It's  done  already,"  she  acknowledged,  taking  his 
arm.  "One  question,  Frank.  What  is  a  Mexican? 
I  have  only  the  haziest  of  ideas." 

"Spanish  grafted  on  Aztec — and  don't  forget  that 
the  Aztecs  had  evolved  a  high  civilization  while  our 
woad-stained  ancestors  were  still  chasing  one  another 
with  clubs  through  the  forests  of  ancient  Britain. 
Their  society  was  graded  in  castes  that  never  com 
mingled.  The  highest  was  made  up  of  priests  and 
rulers,  and  I'll  wager  that  Consuela's  ancestry  leads 
back  through  many  a  fine  old  don  to  the  Montezu- 
mas." 

It  was  very  comfortable  on  the  lounge.  A  pleas 
ant  breeze  swept  through  the  long  room  on  its  way 
to  rattle  the  palms  outside.  The  whirl  of  Mrs.  Ew- 
ing's  sewing-machine  had  died  to  an  insect  drone  in 
David's  sleepy  ears,  and  if  the  muzzle  of  a  Winchester 
Twenty-Two  had  not  suddenly  poked  in  between  his 
ribs,  another  minute  would  have  seen  him  fast  asleep. 

"Young  man,  you  are  having  altogether  too  good 
a  time."  Ewing  grinned  in  his  startled  face.  "A 
week's  steady  loaf  ought  to  satisfy  even  your'  lazy 
soul.  Get  out  and  earn  your  bread.  This  is  Friday, 
and  fail  ye  to  shoot  fish  enough  for  dinner  we  shall 
banish  you  to  Verda.  Better  take  the  Forty-Four, 

236 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

too,  on  the  off-chance  of  a  'gator;  and  out  of  respect 
for  a  decrepitude  that  looks  unequal  to  the  weight 
of  two  guns,  I  hereby  depute  Mistress  Consuela  to 
help  and  take  care  of  you." 

"I'll  go,  too,  if  you  like?" 

But  as  Mrs.  Ewing  made  to  put  up  her  sewing, 
Consuela  shook  her  head  with  a  smile  that  bespoke 
her  appreciation  of  the  thought  behind  the  offer. 
"No,  you  want  to  finish  that  to-day." 

"Then  you  must  wear  my  khaki  and  leggings." 

"I  thought  she  might  not  like  to  go  unchaperoned," 
she  explained,  when  Ewing  rallied  her  for  a  "goose 
berry"  after  the  two  had  gone  off.  "Mexican  girls 
never  go  out  with  men  alone." 

"Case  of  can't,  I  guess,"  Ewing  laughed,  "judging 
by  present  cases.  She  takes  to  freedom  like  a  duck 
to  water.  And  did  you  see  her  fight  for  the  heavy 
rifle?  Got  it,  too.  And  that  reminds  me — I  forgot 
to  tell  them  Joachim  is  waiting  at  the  river.  But 
they  can't  miss  him." 

Nor  did  they.  Taking  the  F.orty-Four  from  Con 
suela,  the  Indian — a  volunteer,  hook-nosed,  brilliant 
ly  eyed  as  a  bird,  but  singularly  small  and  withered 
for  a  Zacateco — turned  on  to  a  path  that  paralleled 
the  river,  a  wonderful  path  which  covered  in  a  single 
mile  every  variety  of  jungle  scenery.  From  inex 
tricable  bejuca  tangles,  it  led  across  an  arroyo,  around 
a  dank  morass,  under  tall  timber  in  greenish  shade 
incandescent  with  a  fire  of  orchids,  to  plunge  through 
sunlit  glades  aboil  with  flowers  beneath,  effervescent 

237 


THE   PLANTER 

above  with  a  variegation  of  insect  life,  rainbow  butter 
flies,  great  dusky  moths,  dragon-flies  as  large  as  birds. 

At  first  both  man  and  maid  were  rather  silent. 
Never  much  of  a  talker,  David  reflected  a  quiet  that 
was  unusual  as  its  cause.  When  a  girl  has  been 
taught  to  blush,  if  by  chance  her  feet  escape  the  boun 
daries  of  a  flowing  skirt  her  feelings  on  finding  eight 
inches  of  shapely  ankle  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the 
world  can  only  be  measured  by  those  of  the  debu 
tante  who  appears  at  her  first  ball  shorn  of  a  foot 
of  accustomed  clothing  at  the  other  extreme.  The 
said  world  being  limited  in  this  instance  to  diffident 
David,  whose  eyes  never  ventured  below  her  waist, 
she  quickly  grew  to  the  khaki  skirt,  and  began  to 
chatter  in  English,  which,  according  to  a  recent  com 
pact,  he  answered  in  Spanish;  and  as  seriousness, 
much  less  silence,  was  impossible  in  the  face  of  each 
other's  mistakes,  her  low  laugh  was  soon  replying  to 
his  rather  solemn  chuckle. 

As  regards  the  matter  of  their  conversation,  it 
would,  if  detailed,  prove  no  more  interesting  than 
that  of  any  young  couple  under  like  conditions,  yet 
has  significance  in  that  it  revealed  to  him  more 
of  her  personality.  Unspoiled  by  artificial  culture, 
she  astonished  him  by  the  play  of  vivid  perceptions 
allied  with  a  lively  intelligence  to  interpret  the  feel 
ing  excited  by  things;  and  she  had  in  full  measure 
that  feminine  passion  for  wee  flowers,  tiny  birds, 
small  creatures  which  takes  out  from  the  mother 
love.  She  could  find  and  point  out  paroquets,  ca- 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

naries,  in  the  tops  of  the  tallest  trees.  The  tinier  the 
lizard,  the  quicker  her  sight.  Pouncing  on  a  flower, 
mere  spark  in  the  grass,  she  would  make  him  look 
closely,  and  —  lo!  in  miniature,  he  saw  through  her 
eyes  the  blush  of  sunsets,  spread  of  indigo  skies,  a 
world  of  delicate  color,  and  was  filled  with  sudden 
shame  for  his  own  dull  vision.  And  she  displayed 
such  joy  in  it  all,  thirst  to  touch,  taste,  absorb  the 
life  and  light  about  her — joy  that  was  almost  pathetic 
in  its  intensity  when,  in  the  very  act  of  reaching  out, 
she  would  pause  and  sigh  at  her  inability  to  grasp  it 
all,  premonition  of  satiety.  The  action  which  began 
when  an  iguana  suddenly  burst  from  the  grass  under 
their  feet  came  almost  as  a  relief. 

Even  as  the  girl  gave  a  startled  cry,  the  great 
lizard  flashed  out  on  a  sand  playa  which  here  lay 
between  the  path  and  the  river,  and  was  going  like 
the  wind  for  the  water  when  headed  by  the  Indian. 
Headed  again  by  David,  it  crouched,  hissing,  spines 
erected  along  five  feet  of  tail  and  backbone,  snake 
head  with  its  rows  of  saw  teeth  swinging  in  menace. 

His  first  view  of  the  beast  at  close  quarters,  David 
•was  drawing  closer,  but  the  Indian  pulled  him  back. 
"Take  care,  sefior!  With  one  blow  of  the  tail  he 
breaks  the  leg  of  a  dog."  So  from  a  safer  distance 
he  and  the  girl  watched  the  flow  of  palpitant  color 
through  silver,  green,  to  red  as  its  breathing  altered 
the  play  of  light.  And  if  she  covered  her  eyes  while 
he  fired,  she  excused  the  murder. 

"The  flesh  is  good  for  food.  The  Indians  love  it." 
239 


THE    PLANTER 

* 
When,   farther  on,   they  spied  the   first  alligator 

through  a  break  in  the  greenery,  her  excitement 
equalled  his.  While  he  made  ready  with  the  Forty- 
Four,  she  crawled  up  beside  him,  whispering:  "Be 
sure  you  kill  him.  He  eats  the  Indians'  babies 
and  the  pretty  deer  when  they  come  to  drink  at 
dark." 

It  was  not  a  long  shot.  The  beast  was  quietly 
sleeping  within  a  hundred  yards.  He  really  ought  to 
have  split  the  brain  in  equal  halves.  But — she  lay 
so  close  that  he  could  feel  her  against  his  shoulder. 
Her  breath  fanned  his  neck.  After  staring  at  the 
splash  of  sand  ten  yards  wide,  the  Indian  walked  on, 
and  something  in  his  grin  set  a  reflection  of  David's 
fiery  shame  on  the  girl's  cheek.  They  did  not  look 
at  each  other  up  to  the  moment  that  Joachim  paused 
again  on  the  edge  of  a  morass  that  showed  the  tracks 
of  deer. 

Motioning  them  to  crouch,  he  breathed  between 
forefinger  and  thumb  into  his  loose  fist,  producing  a 
note  thin  as  the  whistle  of  a  toy  balloon,  emitted  at 
intervals  with  spells  of  listening  between ;  and  when  a 
stick  presently  snapped  in  the  forest  he  looked  back 
at  David  with  a  nod  at  the  Forty-Four.  Uncertain 
what  to  expect,  he  cocked  the  rifle.  But  when,  after 
a  troubled  note  that  imitated  to  perfection  the  bleat 
of  a  suckling  deer,  the  timid  mother  threw  away  dis 
cretion  and  came  with  a  bounding  rush  into  the  open, 
he  rose,  almost  swearing. 

"We  don't  shoot  does  up  home,  and  I'm  blamed  if 
240 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

I'll  begin  here.  Vaminos,  Joachim,  nosotros  tirare- 
mos  los  pescados." 

Though  he  had  spoken  the  English  rapidly,  her 
glowing  sympathy  told  that  she  had  understood. 
"  It  would  have  been  wicked  to  kill  the  sweet  mother. 
Yes,  let  us  shoot  fish." 

The  poor  fish!  For  his  cold-bloodedness,  utter 
detachment  from  things  sentimental,  it  has  been  de 
creed  that  he  shall  have  no  friend.  Looking  down 
from  the  high  bank,  she  lent  eager  eyes  to  the  search 
which  would  have  been  fishless  had  they  depended  on 
her  untrained  sight.  She  stared  her  incredulity  when 
the  Indian  suddenly  pointed. 

"Mira!  mira!  senor.  Look!  Over  there!  Un 
pescado  grande!  A  big  fish,  and  he  swims  this 
way." 

Neither,  at  first,  could  David  see.  But  having 
gained  experience  of  the  microscopic  Zacateco  sight 
while  shooting  fish  with  Maria  Guadaloupe,  he  waited 
until  a  patch  of  limpid  brown  resolved  from  the  shin 
ing  waters.  "There!"  he  whispered,  pointing  over 
her  shoulder.  "Close  to  that  snag.". 

"That!"  she  exclaimed,  aloud.  "It  is  too  small. 
Oh,  it  is  gone!  I  frightened  it  away." 

Laughing  at  her  startled  repentance,  David  assured 
her  that  another  would  soon  come  in,  and  when  it 
did  she  stood,  petrified,  till  a  splash  and  flounder  of 
white  followed  his  shot.  A  quick  dash  before  it 
could  slide  out  of  the  shallows,  and  Joachim  had  the 
fish  out  on  the  bank — not  the  minnow  it  had  appeared, 

241 


THE    PLANTER 

viewed  through  the  deceptive  water,  but  a  speckled 
beauty  over  two  feet  long. 

"Now,  your  turn."     David  handed  her  the  rifle. 

"I?     But  I  cannot  shoot." 

Her  eyes,  however,  told  of  her  willingness,  and 
having  been  instructed  in  angles  of  deflection  she 
achieved  beginner's  luck  and  shot  her  fish.  Her 
pleased  flushings,  shy  enthusiasm,  brilliant  smiles  at 
the  trophy  when  hung  by  the  gills  from  a  crotched 
stick,  would  have  melted  an  inveterate  misogynist, 
and,  kindling  at  her  pleasure,  David  overdid  it — kept 
on  his  feet  a  full  hour  too  long  while  she  attempted 
to  repeat  the  feat. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  her  jubilations  over  a  second 
success  that  she  noticed  and  cried  out  at  his  pallor. 
"Little  pig  that  I  am!  I  was  to  look  after  you,  and 
see — I  have  walked  you  to  death.  Now  you  must 
lie  down — here  in  the  shade — and  I  shall  fold  my 
jacket  for  your  head.  So!  Now  rest  while  I  get 
you  a  drink." 

Twisting  a  cup  from  a  large  leaf,  a  trick  she  had 
just  learned  from  Joachim,  she  brought  water  from 
the  river,  then  sat  down  on  the  root  of  a  saber,  knees 
gathered  in  her  arms — in  what  was  now,  to  him,  her 
familiar  fashion — and  looked  out  over  the  bright 
swirl  beyond  the  overhang  of  the  trees.  The  Indian 
had  gone  on  with  the  Forty-Four  to  look  for  another 
alligator,  and  thinking,  perhaps,  that  he  might  sleep 
she  sat  still,  quietly  musing,  while,  reverting  to  a  habit 
of  his  sickness,  he  watched  her  with  half-closed  eyes. 

242 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

The  finely  chiselled  nostrils,  ear  pink  and  delicate  as 
the  whorl  of  a  shell,  rounded  slenderness  of  figure, 
perfect  symmetry  of  chin  and  throat,  he  saw  all  trans 
figured  by  clean  young  love,  the  love  that  worships 
with  awe  seeing  flesh  only  as  spirit.  Ay,  he  looked, 
looked  and  worshipped  until  a  cloud  seemed  to  settle 
over  her  quiet  musing  and  her  bosom  rose  to  a  small 
sigh. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?" 

"I  thought  you  were  asleep."  And,  answering  his 
question:  "I  was  thinking  how  happy  your  American 
girls  ought  to  be." 

"In  what  particular — " 

"Their  freedom  to  come  and  go.  At  home  I  could 
not  do  this.  From  the  cradle  our  girls  are  jealously 
guarded.  They  go  not  even  to  church  unescorted, 
see  a  lover  only  from  behind  the  window-bars,  are 
never  alone  with  him  until  after  marriage.  It  is 
slavery,  degradation." 

"You  also — "  he  began,  and  she  went  on  from  his 
diffident  pause. 

"A  girl  who  works  gains  more  freedom,  yet  my 
mother  always  sent  Magdaleno  to  take  me  back  and 
forth  through  the  streets." 

"Yet  she  allowed  you  to  come  down  here?" 

"With  him  —  who  is  almost  a  second  father  —  in 
payment  of  a  debt.  But  if  she  could  see  me?"  She 
laughed,  a  musical  gurgle  rippling  with  the  delight 
of  that  unaccustomed  freedom.  "Yes,  your  girls 
are  much  to  be  envied." 

243 


THE   PLANTER 

"And  they  don't  even  know  it,"  he  mused.  "And, 
not  knowing  it,  find  other  things  to  be  miserable 
about." 

"But  they  feel  it.  Have  I  not  seen  them  walking 
on  Calle  San  Francisco,  upright,  careless,  self-suffi 
cient,  better  protected  by  their  honor  than  we  by  our 
iron  bars  ?  And  in  a  few  days  I  shall  see  them  again." 

Startled,  he  leaned  upon  his  elbow.  It  was  not  the 
passion  of  revolt,  regret  in  her  tone,  though  these 
struck  a  vibrant  chord.  Had  he  been  asked  at  any 
time  in  the  last  two  weeks  whether  he  were  in  love, 
he  would  probably  have  answered  in  the  negative, 
no  matter  how  much  subsequent  reflection  might  have 
modified  the  denial.  She  had,  to  be  sure,  lingered 
long  in  his  memory,  and  the  glimpse  passing  down 
the  river  had  renewed  the  impression.  Yet  it  had 
almost  faded  at  the  time  she  suddenly  appeared  at 
his  door.  But  the  ground  had  been  well  broken  for 
love's  seed.  And  now?  Coming  like  a  flash  out  of 
a  cloud  upon  him  in  the  summer  of  his  quiet  enjoy 
ment,  the  hint  of  departure  not  only  opened  his  eyes 
to  the  nature  of  a  sudden  unhappiness,  but  set  the 
knowledge  in  them  for  her  to  read. 

Perhaps  because  she  feared  he  might  express  it,  she 
jumped  up,  shook  out  her  skirt,  and  fell  to  smoothing 
the  wrinkles.  He  thought,  too,  that  he  sensed  relief 
when  she  suddenly  exclaimed:  "Here  comes  Joachim! 
We  must  go  if  the  fish  are  to  be  cooked  for  dinner." 

Rising,  he  led  back  to  the  path,  and,  compared 
with  his  silence  going  back,  his  quiet  coming  out 

244 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

takes  on  the  values  of  a  boiler  factory.  Blind  to  the 
glances,  half-amused,  half-sympathetic,  she  levelled 
at  his  back,  he  stalked  ahead,  replying  only  in  mon 
osyllables  to  her  remarks.  He  undoubtedly  sulked — 
behaved  very  badly  all  the  way  to  the  house. 

"Hullo,  Mann!"  a  hearty  voice  hailed  as  they  ap 
proached  the  veranda.  "Glad  to  see  you  round 
again!  Come  up  here!  I  have  news  for  you!" 

It  was  Carruthers,  the  planter  from  down-river, 
whom  David  had  rarely  seen  since  his  first  night  at 
La  Luna.  But  isolation  breeds  quick  friendships. 
Having  made  his  bow,  and  seen  Consuela  seated,  he 
dragged  David  down  into  a  chair  beside  him,  and 
whether  he  believed  them  or  not,  a  fine  spirit  dictated 
his  regretful  expressions  at  the  lad's  hard  luck. 

"Now,  if  it  had  happened  to  me  or  Hertzer,  I 
would  say  all  right.  We  are  looking  for  it.  But  it 
was  hard  lines  on  you,  the  one  man  who  has  tried 
to  be  decent  with  his  men.  But  I  bring  you  a  grain 
of  comfort.  On  the  way  up  I  put  in  at  the  Zacateco 
village  to  see  Don  Julian  about  some  beef,  and  the 
first  man  I  met  was  your  Mr.  Tadeo.  Yes,  Tadeo," 
he  answered  David's  look  of  surprise.  "He,  Sera 
phim  with  Maria,  their  families,  and  three  other  of 
your  enganchars.  I  don't  think  the  Zacatecos  had 
fed  them  very  well.  They  all  looked  a  bit  on  the 
weazened,  and  were  dead  anxious  for  another  go  at 
your  flesh-pots. 

"'It  was  the  fever,  senor,'  Tadeo  said,  almost 
245 


THE   PLANTER 

blubbering.  *  For  we  love  Don  David.  But  now  he 
will  never  take  us  back.' 

"  For  the  good  of  their  souls  I  let  on  to  believe  it. 
Nevertheless,  I  lost  no  time  in  loading  the  outfit  into 
my  canoe,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  them,  men,  women, 
and  children,  were  heading  out  for  your  monte  with 
a  machete  apiece.  Never  saw  such  thirst  for  work." 

Now,  if  David  had  sulked,  his  pettishness  was, 
after  all,  largely  a  product  of  his  sickness,  and  at  this 
confirmation  of  her  prophecy  he  turned,  glowing,  to 
Consuela.  But  she  was  already  up,  clapping  her 
hands.  '  *  Viva !  viva !  Five  and  six  is  eleven !  Viva !" 
And  she  ran  in  to  tell  Mrs.  Ewing. 

Ewing,  whom  the  outcry  brought  out  of  his  office, 
expressed  his  satisfaction  in  more  masculine  fashion. 
"That's  good  for  a  nip  all  round.  We're  obliged  to 
you,  Carrie — having  a  wife  who  curtails  our  libations. 
Brandy  for  you,  Davy  —  doctor's  orders.  Anisette, 
Carrie?  That's  peon's  drink.  How  did  you  get  the 
habit?" 

"How  did  I  get  it,  you  blooming  Sybarite?  My 
company's  poor.  Bet  I  run  our  ranch  on  your 
kitchen  allowance.  Unless  our  stockholders  pingle 
up  a  bit  more  freely,  I'm  likely  to  come  down  to 
aguardiente.  Here's  to  the  colony,  Mann!" 

"Tadeo  and  the  little  Tads,"  Ewing  added.  "May 
his  quiver  be  full  of  'em." 

"No,  makes  too  long  a  day,"  Carruthers  said,  when 
Ewing  asked  if  he  had  come  from  home  that  morn 
ing.  "I  stayed  with  Hertzer  all  night.  By-the-way, 

246 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

Frank,  you  always  said  that  some  volunteer  would  get 
him  some  day.  Well,  it  was  tried  the  other  night. 
You  know  he  sometimes  reads  in  bed — " 

"Flower  almanacs  and  rubber  news." 

Carruthers  nodded.  "Well,  he  dozed  off  with  the 
lamp  at  full  blaze,  and  while  he  slept  some  one  let 
drive  at  him  through  the  siding  with  a  machete  that 
had  been  filed  to  a  stiletto  point.  Luckily  the  bed 
stood  three  feet  out  from  the  wall,  and  just  as  the 
point  broke  his  skin  the  fellow's  hand  came  with  a 
thump  against  the  siding.  You  can  bet  it  wasn't 
an  hour  before  Hertzer  was  up  and  out,  but  the 
jungle  comes  up  to  the  house  on  that  side,  and  he 
didn't  get  him. 

"However,  the  weapon  was  there,  and  you  know 
Hertzer's  cold  logic.  'A  machete  is  forged  to  cut,' 
he  said,  showing  it  to  me.  'Consequently  the  fellow 
who  filed  that  point  knew  my  habits,  and  the  error 
in  distance  proves  that  he  made  his  calculation  from 
outside  observations.  Go  around  and  look  through 
the  crack  and  you'll  find  that  the  bed  seems  to  stand 
close  to  the  wall.'  And  with  only  that  and  a  kick 
to  go  on,  he'd  been  sweating  Carmen  from  early 
morning.  Had  him  in  the  living-room  where  he  could 
see  the  machete  on  the  table,  but  hadn't  asked  him  a 
single  question — didn't  through  the  long  evening  we 
sat  at  cards. 

"In  all  that  time  the  poor  devil  had  neither  eaten 
nor  drank.  His  lips  had  dried  till  they  cracked.  He 
sat  hunched  like  a  frightened  rat,  eyes  glued  to 

247 


THE    PLANTER 

Hertzer's  back  up  to  the  moment  that  Patricia  re 
tired.  Then  they  drifted  to  her,  and  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible  his  glance  would  have  pulled  her  back. 
I  saw  then  that  his  grit  was  all  in,  and  when  I  also 
rose  to  go  out  to  the  bunk-house,  he  threw  forward 
upon  his  face  howling  for  mercy — he,  the  man  who 
once  sat  at  Phelps's  door  and  whetted  his  knife  all 
day. 

"I  was  sure  Hertzer  would  kill  him,"  he  went  on, 
after  a  pause.  ''But  the  beggar  never  does  do  the 
expected.  He  just  kicked  him  up  and  out  along  the 
path  into  the  galera,  and  this  morning  the  Senor 
Carmen  went  out  to  the  field.  That's  not  all.  Who 
do  you  think  he  put  in  his  place?" 

"My  Yaqui?"     David  felt  it. 

"Good  guess!  And  would  you  believe  it,  walking 
down  to  the  landing  with  me  this  morning,  he  sent 
him  back  to  get  his  guns.  After  that  flogging!  'I 
wanted  to  see  if  he'd  take  a  dare,'  he  said,  buckling 
on  the  belt.  And  he  went  off  to  the  campus  with 
that  big  brute  stalking  along  behind." 

"Ph — ew!"  Ewing's  low  whistle  broke  a  short 
silence.  "Do  you  think  he  has  tamed  him?" 

Carruthers  shook  his  head.  "Neither  would  you 
if  you'd  seen  his  face.  You  see,  he  was  under  my 
guns,  and  I  never  batted  a  wink  while  he  was  coming 
down  the  path.  No  sir;  if  Hertzer  does  much  more 
of  that  sort  of  thing,  there'll  be  an  orphan  around 
his  ranch.  And  that  reminds  me" — he  turned  to 
Mrs.  Ewing,  who  just  then  stepped  out — "Patricia 

248 


CANCER   SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

said  that  she  was  coming  over  to-morrow  to  renew 
her  acquaintance  with  Miss  Morales." 

"Too  late.     She  leaves  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow!" 

"Yes."  She  turned  to  hide  her  amusement  at  Da 
vid's  face  of  dismay.  "How  selfish  sickness  makes 
us!  Did  you  expect  we  could  keep  her  forever?" 

"Davy  would  like  to,"  Ewing  chuckled.  "I  see 
his  salary  eaten  up  by  pasears  to  Ciudad  Mexico. 
Better  apply  for  a  rate,  Davy."  With  a  glance  that 
indicated  secret  knowledge  modified  by  slight  puzzle, 
he  asked:  "But  isn't  this  a  bit  sudden?" 

"She  intended  to  go  sometime  this  week.  The 
letter  Carrie  brought  contained  news  of  her  mother's 
sickness.  And  you  can  prepare  for  bachelorhood, 
Frank.  I'm  going,  too — for  a  change,  and  to  do  some 
shopping." 

After  a  second  amused  glance  at  David  she  passed 
along  the  veranda  into  Consuela's  bedroom.  "Just 
look  at  his  face!"  she  whispered,  drawing  the  girl  to 
the  window.  "Talk  of  funeral  gloom.  And  all  your 
doing." 

One  glance,  and  pity  flooded  the  laughter  out  of 
the  girl's  soft  eyes.  "Poor  fellow,  I  must  tell  him. 
Do  let  me?" 

But  Mrs.  Ewing  shook  a  stern  head.  "No,  he  de 
serves  to  suffer  for  his  crossness." 

"You  surely  don't  intend  to  desert  a  poor  wid 
ower?" 

17  249 


THE    PLANTER 

Ewing's  protest  was  drawn  by  the  appearance  at 
breakfast  of  David  in  his  khaki,  which  had  come  back 
from  that  primitive  laundry — -the  stones  of  the  river. 

"Besides  being  base,  it  is  unnecessary.  Miss  Mo 
rales  says  that  you  may  have  Magdaleno  as  long  as 
you  need  him.  Better  stay  till  you  are  good  and 
strong." 

If  David  had  been  a  trifle  undecided,  one  glimpse 
of  Consuela  would  have  been  sufficient  to  send  him 
home  to  try  and  lose  himself  in  the  rush  of  duty. 
While  she  had  resumed  her  usual  black  and  wore  her 
reboza  draped  over  her  shoulders,  Mrs.  Ewing  was 
breakfasting  in  hat  and  travelling-dress — than  which 
nothing  more  strongly  conveys  the  premonition  of 
loneliness  attendant  on  departures.  But  as  inde 
cision  was  never  of  his  faults,  he  rejected  arguments, 
laughed  at  mock  reproaches,  and  at  the  proper  time 
took  his  place  next  Mrs.  Ewing  in  the  stern  of  Car- 
ruthers'  boat. 

Now,  last  night's  sun  had  set  on  a  mutinous  David, 
a  youth  who  reviled  Fate  to  its  face  and  would  not 
down.  But  after  wrestling  through  the  dark  hours 
— which,  as  every  one  knows,  make  sins  of  intent 
look  blacker  than  crimes  of  commission — he  had  risen 
sorely  chastened,  oppressed  with  a  lively  sense  of  his 
own  demerits,  resolved  to  carry  his  cross  to  such 
Calvary  as  duty  might  appoint,  a  humble  and  con 
trite  spirit  which,  however,  was  not  equal  to  the 
strain  of  seeing  Consuela  in  the  bow  with  Carruthers. 
Three  minutes  after  they  cast  off,  the  mutineer  was 

250 


CANCER    SUSTAINS   A    REVERSE 

again  in  the  saddle.  David,  the  bellicose,  glared  at 
the  pair  across  the  boat  with  feelings  none  the  less 
injured  because  the  arrangement  had  been  purely 
accidental. 

To  do  the  planter  justice,  he  would  readily  have 
consented  to  the  alternative  arrangement.  It  was 
never  a  penance  to  sit  with  Mrs.  Ewing.  But,  igno 
rant  of  the  thorns  he  was  planting  in  David's  bosom, 
he  lived  up  to  the  charming  opportunity  and  did  his 
best  to  be  agreeable. 

Neither  could  an  unbiassed  mind  have  misinter 
preted  the  girl's  glance,  the  little  moue  which  said 
plainly  as  words,  "I'd  rather  be  back  there."  But 
when  was  love  unbiassed  ?  He  turned  coldly  away, 
and,  offended,  she  engaged  the  planter  in  what,  to 
David's  inflamed  vision,  loomed  as  an  outrageous 
flirtation.  Even  then  she  gave  him  an  occasional 
tentative  glance.  But  whereas  a  smile  or  other  evi 
dence  of  contrition  would  have  brought  her  instantly 
upon  good  behavior,  he  added  fuel  to  these  fires  of 
his  own  lighting  by  displaying  an  interest  in  Mrs. 
Ewing  that  would  have  been  disconcerting  if  she  had 
not  found  it  so  amusing. 

But  if,  all  the  way  down  to  Verda,  they  flirted 
grimly  against  each  other  from  either  end  of  the  boat, 
all  was  forgiven  when  she  offered  her  hand  in  good 
bye  after  he  had  written  a  check  in  payment  for 
his  men.  Magdaleno  having  carried  a  private  grin 
back  to  his  work  in  the  fields,  they  were  alone  in  the 
store  when  he  returned  blundering  thanks  for  her 


THE    PLANTER 

kindness.  But  howsoever  it  may  lack  words,  sincere 
feeling  never  fails  to  express  itself.  She  smiled  softly 
while  he  halted  and  stammered,  nor  made  any  effort 
to  withdraw  her  hand  until  Carruthers  hailed  from 
the  river. 

"Hurry,  you  folks!  I  must  make  La  Luna  in  time 
to  head  off  Patricia!" 

"And  I  may  call  on  you  in  Mexico?"  he  asked, 
going  down  the  bank. 

"Surely."  She  turned  to  hide  a  mischievous  spar 
kle  which  did  not  die  until  quenched  by  a  sudden 
humidity  as  presently  she  looked  back  at  his  lonely 
figure.  Then:  "It  was  wicked,"  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Ewing.  "I  wish  I  had." 

As  for  him,  once  again  he  watched  her  go  out  on 
the  silent  river,  the  slow  drifting  so  infinitely  quiet 
and  mournful.  At  the  bend  the  conch-shell  sent 
back  a  trail  of  hollow  echoes.  As  before  she  rose 
while  the  canoe  swung  on  the  turn,  and — he  doubted 
his  eyes — surely  she  was  kissing  her  hand! 


XVI 

DAVID    CASTS    HIS    BREAD    UPON    THE    WATERS 

"\  1  7HY  are  you  looking  so  savage?" 

VV  Reaching  from  his  perch  on  the  store  coun 
ter,  Phelps,  who  had  brought  letters  from  San  Juan, 
took  the  pamphlet  which  David  extended  with  a 
fling  of  disgust. 

"'Report  of  Verda  Rubber  and  Improvement 
Company  for  fiscal  half-year,  April-September,'"  he 
quoted.  Reading  on,  his  smile  broadened  into  an 
unvarnished  grin,  and  he  finished  with  a  laugh.  "I 
needn't  ask  if  you  wrote  it.  The  pen  was  dipped  too 
deeply  in  wells  of  optimism  to  have  come  from  your 
fist." 

"Me?"  David  ungrammatically  exploded.  "I  rec 
ognize  only  two  paragraphs,  and  even  those  have 
been  tinkered  up." 

"'How  doth  the  busy  Osgood  improve  Davy's 
gloomy  periods,'"  Phelps  satirically  misquoted. 
"With  a  wizard's  touch  he  transmutes  the  black 
night  of  your  reports  into  the  sunshine  beloved  of 
stockholders,  and  still  you  are  not  grateful?  I'd  like 
to  see  your  answer.  Written  already?  May  I?" 

253 


THE    PLANTER 

He  glanced  quickly  through  the  letter  that  David 
had  dashed  off  while  he  had  carried  mail  on  to  Ewing. 
"  Hum!  You  didn't  exactly  call  him  a  liar.  Frankly, 
my  dear  fellow,  I  wouldn't  send  this.  The  martyr- 
to-principle  business  reads  fine  in  books,  but  isn't 
livable.  I  have  always  had  my  doubts  whether 
the  old  saints  would  have  made  those  little  vaude 
ville  plays  if  they  had  lacked  an  audience,  and  with 
the  exception  of  myself  there  isn't  a  soul  to  watch 
you  perform,  and  I  shall  only  laugh.  So  why  quar 
rel  with  your  bread-and-butter — even  if  it  is  a  bit 
rancid?"  As  David  stamped  the  letter  with  a  bang 
he  jumped  from  the  counter.  "Wilful  will  have  his 
way.  I  suppose  that  an  investment  of  fifty  thousand, 
gold,  does  carry  its  privileges.  Let  me  have  it  and 
I'll  send  it  on  to  Carrie's  to-night.  He  has  a  man 
going  down  to-morrow." 

Besides  disgust  at  the  flamboyant  expansion  of  his 
own  modest  statements,  David  had  felt  that  the  ex 
aggerations  would  work  him  real  injury.  While  as 
yet  Mr.  Osgood  had  successfully  headed  off  projected 
stockholders'  invasions,  it  was  not  possible  to  do  it 
forever,  and  in  the  event  of  inspection  the  properties 
must  fall  so  exceedingly  below  expectation  that  he, 
David,  would  receive  blame  instead  of  praise  for  the 
work  really  accomplished. 

"But  let  him  be,"  he  muttered,  as  he  filed  the  re 
vised  version  away  with  a  copy  of  his  own  report, 
after  Phelps  had  gone.  "It  was  a  good  thing  that 
I  made  these  out  in  duplicate.  Let  him  be.  A 

254 


DAVID'S    BREAD    UPON   THE   WATERS 

rascal  will  hang  himself  quicker  than  a  fool  if  you 
give  him  rope  enough." 

What  of  sickness,  absence,  and  time  used  up  in 
getting  the  new  force  down  to  routine,  he  was  de 
linquent  in  his  book-keeping,  but  he  had  no  more 
than  returned  to  his  accounts,  before  there  came  a 
fresh  interruption. 

"Favor  de  V.  Sefior?     Una  quartilla  de  arroz." 

Looking  up,  he  saw,  framed  by  the  open  window, 
the  laughingly  mischievous  face  of  the  girl  who  had 
called  after  him  as  he  rode  through  the  Zacateco 
village.  Besides  the  rice,  she  purchased  a  media  of 
hog  fat,  a  needle,  a  quartilla  of  green  chilis,  and  hav 
ing  taken  a  fine  bunch  of  bananas  in  payment  for 
this  various  order,  David  threw  a  handful  of  galletas 
(sweet  knick-knacks)  for  her  smile,  and  returned  to 
his  books. 

"Desea  V.  una  servienta,  sefior?"  (Did  he  require 
a  servant?) 

He  looked  up  with  a  frown  that  evaporated  under 
her  smile.  Shapely  arms  propped  on  the  sill,  face 
gathered  in  small  brown  hands,  she  went  on  to  argue 
against  his  headshake.  "I  would  not  rob  thee  like 
Andrea  did.  Ask  Don  Julian,  the  ranchero,  or  Lola, 
my  sister,  who  is  the  woman  of  Sefior  Phelps.  They 
will  tell  that  I  am  honest,  and  have  never  lived  with  a 
man." 

Her  statement  of  the  last  qualification  was  so 
commonplace  in  its  innocent  artlessness  that  David 
forgot  to  blush.  And  did  it,  all  said,  differ  greatly 

255 


THE    PLANTER 

from  the  "characters,"  written  or  verbal,  that  are 
handed  around  with  servants  among  Anglo-Saxon 
peoples?  "Jane  is  honest,  an  excellent  worker,  her 
morals  beyond  reproach."  It  sounds  familiar.  Any 
way,  he  replied,  with  gravity  befitting  her  earnestness, 
that  if  lie  had  required  a  servant  he  would  have  taken 
her  word  in  all  the  premises. 

Curious  as  to  her  knowledge  of  the  robbery,  he 
asked:  "Who  told  thee?" 

"She  came  to  the  village,  senor,  with  a  canoe  load 
ed  to  the  water.  Such  a  housekeeping!"  The  little 
hands,  shapely  arms  went  up  with  a  gesture  eloquent 
as  graceful.  "She  said  it  was  all  of  her  wage;  but  we 
knew  her  for  a  liar,  and  the  village  would  have  none 
of  her.  So  they  went  down-river,  she  and  Candela- 
rio,  to  Tlacotalpan  —  the  Gulf."  Spread  palms  tes 
tified  to  the  vastness  of  that  world  of  waters.  "You 
will  never  see  her  more,  senor,  and  is  it  not  that  I 
shall  take  her  place?" 

As  it  happened  David  had  already  selected  a  cook 
from  among  the  new  women,  and,  entering  just  then 
to  get  some  supply,  she  displayed  a  combination  of 
age  and  ugliness  rarely  seen  even  among  enganchars. 

"She  cooks  for  thee?"  the  girl  repeated,  wonder- 
ingly.  "She!"  And  with  a  shrug  that  expressed 
unutterable  things  concerning  his  taste,  she  poised 
her  calabash  on  top  of  her  head  and  swung  gracefully 
away,  a  flutter  of  crimson  and  gold. 

Unsettled  by  these  interruptions,  David  locked  the 
store  and  walked  out  to  inspect  the  fence  which  Tadeo, 

256 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

Maria,  and  Seraphim  were  throwing  around  the  old 
rubber. 

It  was,  in  any  case,  too  pleasant  a  morning  to  spend 
in-doors.  After  a  three-day  norther,  which  had  set 
the  camp  in  a  shiver,  though  the  mercury  never  fell 
below  eighty,  the  clouds  had  burst,  spilling  sunshine 
over  a  singing  jungle.  Whistles,  twitterings,  cut  the 
clear  air,  which  was  shotten  with  an  iridescence  of 
insects.  In  the  absence  of  haze  he  spied  from  an 
eminence  that  which  he  had  never  seen  before — the 
jacales  of  La  Luna,  diminished  as  through  the  small 
end  of  a  telescope,  spots  of  gold  in  the  jungle  green; 
and  he  caught  a  faint  belling,  distant  bay  of  the 
blood-hounds  Hertzer  had  imported  from  the  States. 
Though  really  warm  as  July  in  the  North,  the  day — 
in  comparison  with  past  temperatures — had  all  the 
feel  of  spring,  its  stimulating  freshness,  and  as  David 
followed  the  path  through  his  thrifty  plantings  he 
forgot  Osgood,  sickness,  his  recent  troubles  in  plan- 
nings  for  the  future. 

Nor  was  his  optimism  without  foundation.  With 
material  from  the  new  draft,  he  had  already  begun 
to  build  around  the  nucleus  of  his  colony.  Of  eight 
women,  four — who  possessed  husbands — would  pres* 
ently  occupy  huts  that  were  being  erected  by  Zaca- 
teco  volunteers.  Three  others,  unmarried  (at  least 
lacking  visible  male  attachments),  would  embrace 
the  opportunity  along  with  partners  as  soon  as  they 
could  decide  on  a  bewildering  choice  that  comprised 
the  whole  draft.  Even  his  housekeeper,  solitary  re- 

257 


THE    PLANTER 

mainder  of  this  matrimonial  sum,  did  not  despair. 
"Wait  you;  wait  you,  seiior,"  she  had  assured  him 
that  morning.  "  Wait  you  till  the  pretty  ones  are  all 
gone.  House  and  land  will  not  go  begging  for  lack 
of  a  few  teeth."  Withal,  he  was  going  slowly,  ex 
ercising  discretion  born  of  his  late  mistakes.  Like 
the  old  galera,  the  new  huts  stood  within  a  wire  com 
pound,  outside  of  which  families  would  not  be  allowed 
at  night  until  habit  had  bound  them  to  the  soil.  And 
he  had  hired  a  velador  from  the  village. 

Apart  from  such  necessary  restrictions,  he  aimed 
at  full  liberty  in  play  and  work.  At  night  he  would 
go  into  the  galera  and  lend  the  incentive  of  his  pres 
ence  to  songs  and  dancing.  In  the  field  piece-work 
had  proved  itself  with  the  new  men  even  as  it  had 
with  the  old.  Pausing  to  exchange  a  word  in  passing 
with  Magdaleno,  he  saw  two  stout  fellows  at  rest  in 
the  shade.  While  he  watched,  three  others  joined 
them,  and  the  remainder  were  slashing  on  to  a  quick 
finish. 

The  fence,  when  he  reached  it,  proved  well  forward, 
and  sitting  under  a  palm  he  looked  on  while  Tadeo 
trimmed,  with  deft  machete,  the  rails  that  were 
brought  by  his  woman  and  three  small  toddlers. 
Away  on  the  other  side  he  could  hear  Maria  and 
Seraphim.  The  clip,  clip  of  distant  axes  told  of 
Zacatecos  cutting  bamboo  rafters  and  palm -leaves 
for  his  thatch.  About  him  the  rubber  upstood,  full 
thirty  feet,  straight,  well-branched,  richly  tufted; 
he  could  look  down  its  clean  lines  for  a  long  half- 

258 


DAVID'S    BREAD    UPON  THE  WATERS 

mile.  And  as  nothing  furnishes  sweeter  cud  for 
meditation — unless  it  be  the  reveries  of  love — than 
the  contemplation  of  the  first  fruits  of  creative  labor, 
small  wonder  if  he  indulged  in  pleasant  brooding, 
building,  planning,  always  observed  by  the  rich  face 
which  peeped  from  the  windows  of  each  airy  castle. 

"Mir a  V.  senor!     Mira!     Mira!" 

While  he  mused  the  distant  belling  had  waxed 
and  waned.  Loud  or  soft,  sometimes  almost  dying, 
it  had  drawn  steadily  nearer,  and  rose  to  a  sudden 
furious  baying  as  Tadeo  called.  The  tall  rubber  all 
lay  to  the  right,  and,  looking  across  the  new  plantings, 
David  was  just  in  time  to  see  a  man  run  into  the 
clearing,  then  stop  and  face  the  hounds,  which  came 
loping  out  of  the  jungle  with  a  horseman  hard  on  their 
heels. 

Hertzer!     A  runaway!     The  Yaqui! 

Quick  almost  as  the  flash  of  ideas,  the  distant 
drama  played  itself  out  while  David  ran.  A  machete 
gleamed  twice  in  the  sun — once  as  the  first  dog  sprang, 
again  as  Hertzer  rode,  roaring,  down  upon  his  man. 
Then  David  dipped  into  the  trough  of  an  earth  roll; 
saw  no  more  till  he  breasted  the  opposite  rise  and  came 
suddenly  on  Hertzer. 

Dismounted,  he  stood  staring  down  on  the  great 
body  that  lay  beside  a  headless  hound,  venting  its 
magnificent  life  through  a  gash  in  the  throat.  At 
twenty  yards  David  sensed  the  thought  in  the  plant 
er's  pose,  the  gravity  which  manifested  still  more 
strongly  when  he  turned  and  spoke. 

259 


THE    PLANTER 

"You  saw  it?  No,  you  couldn't;  you  were  down 
in  the  valley.  Man,  it  was  great!"  His  bleak  eyes 
lit  with  a  sudden  blaze.  "You  see  that  I  have  my 
guns.  Well,  I  gave  him  his  chance,  the  chance  he 
had  earned — went  at  it  steel  for  steel.  And  he'd  have 
got  me  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Bet,  here."  Stooping,  he 
patted  the  hound.  "For  my  horse  shied.  But  she 
pinioned  from  behind,  and  I  dropped  him  the  very 
next  stroke. 

"Got  away  this  morning,"  he  went  on,  in  the  same 
absent  way.  "The  coolest  you  ever  heard.  We 
were  picking  squash  for  the  hogs.  You  know  my 
patch — not  twenty  feet  from  the  road.  But  it  needs 
cleaning  badly,  and  when  I  stooped  to  trim  a  vine 
he  vanished — -went  from  under  my  nose.  No  use," 
he  finished,  as  David  bent  to  examine  the  wound. 
"  I  got  the  jugular.  He's  all  in.  Needs  only  a  grave, 
and  he'll  be  ready  for  it  by  the  time  I  can  get  out  a 
cabo  with  a  couple  of  men." 

As  yet  David  had  not  spoken.  Without  a  word, 
even  a  glance,  he  slid  to  his  knees  and  began  to  tear 
strips  from  the  man's  shirt  to  bind  his  rolled  hand 
kerchief  over  the  wound. 

Until  the  rough  pad  was  adjusted  Hertzer  looked 
on.  Then,  with  a  recurrence  of  his  usual  sarcasm, 
he  said :  "  I  forgot.  You  don't  hold  with  my  methods. 
It  wasn't  for  nothing  the  beggar  headed  for  your 
place."  Mounting,  he  added:  "If  you  have  time  to 
waste  on  dead  men,  go  right  ahead.  Only  remember 
that  the  funeral  is  now  up  to  you.  Come,  Bet." 

260 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

With  a  careless  "Adios"  he  rode  off,  more  in 
different  than  the  hound  which  did  turn,  howling, 
to  look  back  at  its  dead  mate.  And  if  he  paused 
within  the  screen  of  the  jungle,  it  was  only  to  grin  as 
Tadeo,  Maria,  Seraphim  came  running  at  David's 
call. 

"It's  a  cinch  that  he  dies,  but  good  luck  to  you. 
I  know  where  to  find  him  if  I  should  be  mistaken." 

And  mistaken  he  was.  Exposed  to  view,  the 
jugular  was  yet  not  cut.  Weak  life  betrayed  itself 
by  the  flicker  of  an  eyelid  as  they  laid  him  on  the 
catre  in  Andrea's  old  kitchen.  When,  moreover, 
Ewing  came  shooting  down-river  in  response  to  a 
hurry  call,  he  found  David,  a  trifle  pale,  washing  his 
hands  after  an  operation  of  eight  stitches  with  a  com 
mon  sewing-needle  and  thread  sterilized  by  passage 
through  flame. 

"Good  for  you,  Doctor  Davy,"  he  whispered,  as 
they  both  stood  looking  down  on  the  man  in  his 
stupor  of  weakness.  "Barring  blood-poisoning,  he'll 
be  round  in  a  week.  Though  I  don't  know  whether 
it  wouldn't  have  been  more  merciful  to  let  him  die. 
He'll  have  to  go  back  to  Hertzer." 

"Will  he?" 

It  was  fine  to  see  the  sparkle  in  David's  eye,  but 
Ewing  was  too  good  a  fellow  to  allow  his  friend  to 
kick  uselessly  against  the  pricks.  "What  could  you 
do?  Hertzer  has  the  law  behind  him." 

"The  law?"  Besides  tinting  his  pallor  a  healthy 
261 


THE    PLANTER 

bronze,  the  open  life  had  filled  out  and  straightened 
David.  As  he  now  swelled  in  his  indignation,  he 
loomed  a  full  three  sizes  larger  than  the  law  clerk  of 
Northfield.  "The  law?  Is  it  ever  invoked  here 
except  in  defence  of  some  iniquity?  Will  it  take  no 
cognizance  of  brutal  murder?" 

Ewing  shrugged  in  comical  protest.  "I  didn't 
make  it,  Davy;  but,  as  a  fact,  it  won't.  Have  you 
read  any  Mexican  history?  Well,  you  couldn't  find 
a  better  way  to  improve  your  Spanish  —  though  it 
doesn't  give  the  inside  of  this  Yaqui  business  any 
more  than  our  American  histories  tell  the  truth  of 
the  Indian  wars.  The  facts  will  never  be  known  till 
some  Carlisle  graduate  writes  The  Conquest  of  the 
Americas  from  the  Indian  point  of  view;  but  you 
can  glimpse  something  of  what  it  must  have  been 
and  is  from  the  behavior  of  some  of  our  countrymen 
who  come  down  here.  There  appears  to  be  no  good 
reason  why  a  man  who  comports  himself  like  a  decent 
citizen  at  home  should  not  behave  abroad.  Yet  I 
have  seen  men — not  only  tourists,  but  others  who 
have  lived  long  enough  in  the  country  to  know  better 
— I've  seen  them  thrust  rude  hands  into  the  bosom 
of  an  Indian  girl.  Then  if  her  brother,  husband,  or 
lover  rises  up  to  kill,  the  Northern  papers  all  scare- 
head  the  atrocious  murder,  and  egg  our  government 
on  to  revenge.  .  I  tell  you  the  Gringo  is  the  worst 
beast  of  them  all  when  he  loses  himself.  But,  coming 
back  to  the  point,  did  you  ever  hear  of  '  El  Machetero '  ? 
My  God!  Look  there!" 

262 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

They  were  still  standing,  one  on  either  side  of  the 
catre,  and,  looking  quickly  down,  David  was  just  in 
time  to  see  the  Yaqui's  eyelids  flicker.  A  single 
flash,  and  intelligence  faded  like  light  out  of  an 
evening  sky,  leaving  the  distended  pupils  vacant. 
Then  the  eyes  closed  once  more. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that?"  Ewing 
asked,  as  they  crossed  from  kitchen  to  house.  "He 
knows  him."  Seated  on  David's  catre,  he  continued: 
"Every  Mexican  child  can  tell  you  of  'El  Machetero' 
(the  man  with  the  machete).  He's  a  Mexican  gen 
eral,  one  of  the  old  fellows  who  fought  through  all 
the  revolutions.  He  got  his  name  from  an  exploit 
in  the  French  war,  a  dare-devil  achievement  that 
discounts  even  the  pirate  stories  I  used  to  read  in 
my  youth.  With  less  than  two  hundred  of  a  force, 
he  waylaid  a  French  command  of  two  thousand 
which  was  convoying  treasure  from  Mazatlan  on  the 
west  coast  over  the  mountains  to  Mexico  City.  The 
revolution  against  Maximilian  was  just  at  its  height, 
and  as  the  arrival  of  money  and  men  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  turn  the  scale  in  the  Emperor's 
favor,  '  El  Machetero '  waited  till  the  French  were  far 
in  the  mountains.  Then  one  evening  he  walked  on 
his  lonely  into  their  camp,  button-holed  the  colonel, 
drew  him  aside  under  pretext  of  having  information 
for  his  private  ear,  and — cut  his  throat  within  call 
of  his  men.  Immediately  after,  he  had  the  jacales 
in  which  the  tired  soldiers  were  sleeping  fired  by 
flaming  arrows,  and  poured  in  such  a  fire  as  they 

263 


THE    PLANTER 

came  rushing  out  that  the  entire  command  yielded. 
If  all  his  men  had  stayed  by  him  it  would  have  been 
a  difficult  position.  But  made  up  as  they  were  of 
cut-throats,  brigands,  assassins,  the  majority  deserted 
with  the  treasure,  leaving  forty  patriots  to  guard  two 
thousand  prisoners.  He  knew  that  he  couldn't  hold 
them  after  daylight  revealed  his  numbers.  To  let 
them  go  would  be  the  end  of  the  revolution.  To  cut 
the  story — I  tell  it  only  to  reveal  the  man — he  march 
ed  them  out  in  twenties  and  cut  their  throats  in  the 
jungle — killed,  killed  till  both  he  and  his  men  grew 
sick  of  the  slaughter,  till  their  arms  tired,  continued 
killing  till  the  morning  sun  dawned  on  less  than  three 
hundred  survivors.  Now,  that's  history,  and  you  can 
imagine  what  it  means  when  I  say  that  this  man  was 
made  governor  of  the  Yaqui  country. 

"How  he  used  his  power  is  common  news  through 
the  republic;  but  we'll  let  that  go  till  your  man  is 
strong  enough  to  tell  it  himself.  But  I  must  tell  you 
of  a  little  talk  I  had  with  Machetero  in  Mexico  City. 
You  know  I  have  a  political  acquaintance  up  there, 
and  I  met  him  one  day  at  the  Legation,  a  fine-looking 
old  fellow,  round-faced,  with  a  grizzle  over  the  temples 
and  a  humorous  twinkle— almost  the  perfect  type  of 
a  well-to-do  business  man.  I  never  could  have  be 
lieved  one-twentieth  of  what  I  had  heard  of  him  if  I 
hadn't  seen  the  twinkle  die  as  I  mentioned  a  report 
of  a  truce  with  the  Yaquis. 

"'Truce'?  he  repeated  after  me.  'Senor,  the 
Yaquis  hold  lands  that  are  rich  in  minerals  and  have 

264 


DAVID'S   BREAD    UPON    THE  WATERS 

fine  valleys  well  watered  with  pleasant  rivers.  They 
wish  to  hold  them,  for  which  I  do  not  blame  them. 
Were  I  a  Yaqui,  I  would  kill  every  Mexican  that  set 
foot  over  my  borders.  But' — here  he  gave  a  little 
shrug,  sinister  in  its  threat — 'those  lands  are  needed 
for  our  national  development.  Truce  ?  There  will  be 
no  truce,  can  be  no  truce,  till  the  last  Yaqui  is  killed  or 
expatriated.'"  After  a  slight  pause,  Ewing  finished, 
"And  that  is  the  law  to  which  you  just  appealed, 
Davy." 

But  David  would  not  down.  "But  the  man  is  ex 
patriated,"  he  argued.  "Living  now  under  the  law, 
cannot  he  claim  its  protection?" 

'  Of  whom  ?  The  Jefe-Politico  of  San  Juan  ?  He's 
thick  as  thieves  with  Hertzer.  If  you  wish  to  get 
hurt,  just  try  and  buck  that  combination.  Did  you 
hear  what  happened  to  Johnny  Miller?" 

"Only  that  he  killed  a  Zacateco  and  had  to  skip 
the  country — like  Meagher." 

"But,  unlike  Meagher,  he  didn't  skip  in  time. 
Well,  the  fellow  tried  to  investigate  Johnny's  case 
with  a  knife,  had  him  chased  three  times  around  the 
house  before  he  gained  lead  enough  to  bolt  in  and 
get  action  with  a  gun.  Of  course  it  was  self-defence 
under  assault  with  a  deadly  weapon,  but  when 
Johnny  was  brought  up,  the  Jefe  ruled  that  the 
machete  was  an  agricultural  implement  used  in  the 
cultivation  of  cane  and  cOrn.  So  Johnny  was  hawked 
back  to  jail,  and  about  every  other  morning  he  re 
ceived  a  note  from  the  Jefe  along  with  his  breakfast 

265 


THE    PLANTER 

roll  and  chocolate:  'My  dear  Senor  Miller,  I  have 
a  debt  that  troubles  me  mucho.  It  must  be  paid 
to-day.  Can  you  lend  me  a  hundred  pesos?'  And 
Johnny  lent — all  that  he  had,  all  that  we  had,  all 
that  his  friends  at  home  could  scrape  up,  and  he'd 
have  been  shot  in  the  end  if  our  ambassador  hadn't 
got  busy  with  Diaz.  It  was  a  squeak  even  at  that; 
such  a  close  shave  that  Johnny  took  the  first  train 
from  the  carcel,  and  shook  all  the  way  up  to  Chicago 
like  twenty  calenturas." 

"But  if  he's  such  an  extortioner,"  David  still  ar 
gued,  "wouldn't  he  be  glad  of  a  chance  at  Hertzer? 
Couldn't  his  greed  be  made,  for  once,  to  subserve 
justice?" 

"With  an  average  man,  yes.  Your  average  will 
scrap  for  his  wife,  scrap  for  his  life,  but  he  won't  take 
much  of  a  chance  for  his  money.  But  Hertzer  isn't 
average.  He'll  scrap  for  a  dollar  as  hard  as  you  for 
your  life,  and  next  to  a  dollar  he  loves  a  fight.  He'd 
be  tickled  to  death  to  try  it  out  with  the  Jefe,  and 
the  old  rascal  knows  it — knows  that  all  the  rurales 
in  Chiapas  and  Vera  Cruz  couldn't  save  him  if  Hert 
zer  once  started  out  to  get  him.  So  he  prefers  to 
hunt  in  couples — as  they  are  doing  now  in  the  con 
fiscation  of  floating  timber.  All  of  which  leads  up 
to  this — as  Hertzer  is  sure  to  come  for  his  man,  you'd 
better  make  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  rob  his  triumph 
by  sending  him  back  yourself." 

"I  never  will,"  he  added.  "You  wouldn't  your 
self,  Frank." 

266 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

"Indeed,  I  would.  I  don't  live  on  your  high  peaks 
— wish  I  did." 

"Well,  I  won't." 

The  hard  glint,  sudden  set  of  his  jaw  convinced 
Ewing  of  the  uselessness  of  further  argument,  but 
if  he  turned  the  conversation  to  other  subjects,  he 
felt  it  incumbent  upon  himself  to  issue  a  last  warn 
ing,  departing  next  morning — for  he  stayed  the  night. 
"Better  yield  gracefully,  Davy,"  he  said,  going  down 
to  the  landing.  "There!  there!  if  you  are  going  to 
spring  your  principles  again,  I  quit.  Have  it  your 
own  stubborn  way.  And,  say,"  he  added,  leaving, 
"I  am  going  down  to  meet  my  wife  next  week,  and 
I  shall  drop  in  and  stay  the  night.  By  that  time 
your  man  ought  to  be  well  enough  to  talk.  I've 
heard  so  much  about  this  Yaqui  business  from  out 
side  parties  that  I'd  like  to  see  how  it  looks  from  an 
inside  view." 

For  three  days  a  "  norther  "  had  roared  in  the  jungle, 
but  on  the  night  that  Ewing  came  again  the  wind 
died  down;  only  occasional  puffs  rustled  the  sere 
thatch,  stirred  the  palms  of  the  clearing  to  dry  rat- 
tlings.  Slanting  between  enormous  violet  cumuli, 
the  setting  sun  weirdly  lit  the  jungle.  An  uncanny 
glow  streamed  through  the  kitchen  doorway  staining 
the  white  men's  faces,  restoring  the  red  to  the  Yaqui's 
colorless  bronze. 

In  one  week  his  wound  had  healed  so  healthily  that 
it  now  required  only  a  daily  dressing.  But  though 

267 


THE    PLANTER 

he  was  up,  able  to  sit  on  a  catre,  he  was  still  weak 
from  loss  of  blood.  His  great  frame  displayed  an 
gles  where  the  plating  muscles  still  hung  flaccid; 
the  eyes  that  turned  on  Ewing  burned  in  deep 
sockets. 

"Surely  I  will  tell  of  it,  senor,"  he  said,  in  good 
Spanish.  "But  where  would  you  have  me  to  begin — 
with  the  hap  that  sent  me  to  the  tierra  caliente,  or  at 
the  time  when  El  Cocodrilo  first  began  to  press  the 
Yaquis?" 

"President  Diaz,"  Ewing  answered  David's  ques 
tioning  look.  "They  call  him  'The  Crocodile,'  be 
cause,  while  he  is  said  to  cry  over  every  warrant 
which  calls  for  the  death  of  a  man,  he  never  forgets 
to  sign  them."  He  added,  in  Spanish:  "We  want 
all  of  it — from  the  beginning." 

While  they  talked  the  sun  had  set,  and  as  the 
tropics  have  no  twilight  the  glow  died  at  once,  and 
the  Yaqui's  voice  issued  from  warm  dusk.  Already 
David  had  noticed  its  difference  in  pitch  and  qual 
ity  from  that  of  Tadeo  and  other  peons.  His  "Si, 
senor,"  answering  a  question,  lacked  the  servility 
with  which  they  endowed  it;  and  while,  as  aforesaid, 
his  Spanish  was  good,  it  lacked  the  music,  ran  in  a 
monotonous  Indian  cadence. 

"Then  I  will  begin  with  the  coming  of  Reuben, 
the  Gringo,  into  our  country  when  my  head  still 
lacked  an  inch  of  my  mother's  shoulder— at  the  night 
that  he  walked,  unbidden  and  unafraid,  into  our 
camp  among  great  rocks  of  the  gods,  the  rocks  that 

268 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

bear  the  snake-and-water  sign  of  the  old  men  in  the 
far  time  before  the  Yaquis. 

41  With  us  it  had  always  been  a  favorite  camp.  An 
open  space  within  a  confusion  of  tall  sentinel  rocks, 
one  man  could  have  held  it  against  a  thousand,  for 
it  was  approachable  only  by  the  stream  that  ran  out 
of  a  cave  down  a  steep  canyon.  After  a  long  trail,  I 
was  very  tired  that  night.  When  my  head  dropped 
to  my  mother's  lap  my  teeth  gripped  on  the  piece 
of  meat  she  had  just  thrust  in  my  mouth,  and  it  was 
still  there  when  I  awoke  under  her  sudden  clutch  and 
saw  the  man  come  striding  out  of  the  cave,  down 
the  water  that  ran  blood-red  under  the  firelight. 

"Upstanding  very  tall,  and  of  a  great  breadth,  he 
seemed  to  my  smallness  to  tower  as  the  rocks.  Be 
cause  of  his  whiteness  I  thought  he  must  be  sick, 
and  in  the  midst  of  his  pallor  blue  eyes  flickered  and 
flared  with  the  fire  of  famine,  a  wildness  of  look  that 
assuredly  saved  him  from  instant  death.  For  among 
our  three  families  were  Luis  Bute,  who  had  killed  the 
three  Mexicans  who  killed  my  father,  Luis  Matos, 
and  others  that  had  helped  him  account  for  a  whole 
company  of  El  Cocodrilo's  soldiers.  But  what  with 
that,  and  a  doubt  whether  he  might  not  be  one  of  the 
old  gods  come  out  from  his  sleep  under  the  cliffs,  they 
held  cocked  guns  and  watched  until,  reaching  the 
fire,  he  fished  meat  from  a  pot  and  sat  down  to  eat. 

"At  that  they  all  returned,  and,  peeping  from  be 
hind  my  mother,  I  saw  Luis  Bute  spear  piece  after 
piece  of  meat  and  hand  them  to  the  stranger,  a  ser- 

269 


THE    PLANTER 

vice  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  advising  his 
quick  killing  in  the  talk  that  went  on.  'For  he  is  a 
Gringo,1  he  said — '  first  of  a  race  countless  as  the  pines 
of  the  mountains,  greedy  as  wolves  of  the  plains, 
fiercer  than  the  tigerino  of  the  jungles.  As  the 
Spaniard  did  to  the  Aztec,  so  did  he  to  the  Spaniard, 
setting  his  foot  upon  his  neck,  wresting  away  his 
lands.  And  as  he  did  to  the  Spaniard,  so  will  he 
do  to  you  if  this  one  be  let  go  to  carry  the  tale  of  the 
minas  of  gold  and  silver.  First  by  twos,  threes,  then 
by  their  scores  and  thousands,  they  will  overflow 
the  land  till  not  a  man  be  left  of  us  save  such  as  work 
under  the. yoke.  He  must  die.' 

"In  the  same  manner  spoke  Luis  Matos,  yet 
though  the  talk  was  made  in  Spanish,  so  that  he 
could  understand,  the  Gringo  ate  quietly,  careless, 
unconcerned  save  when  his  glance  fell  on  my  mother. 
Then  the  blue  sparkle  died,  his  eyes  grew  mild  and 
pleasant  as  summer  skies,  so  gentle  that  I  wondered 
she  should  tremble  under  my  hand.  And  when  he 
spoke,  after  Matos  ended,  his  manner  was  quiet  as 
his  speech. 

"'As  ye  say,  I  am  a  Gringo,  and,  as  ye  say,  the  tale 
of  a  mina  will  draw  a  Gringo  even  from  overseas. 
As  ye  say,  they  will  come,  first  like  dribbling  sand, 
then  like  sand  in  the  wind  until  the  land  is  theirs 
and  none  left  of  you  except  such  as  work  under  the 
yoke — and  the  yoke  will  be  heavy,  the  labor  hard, 
those  that  labor  greatly  despised.  Yet  listen!  The 
tale  of  your  minas  may  never  go  forth  by  me,  for  I 

270 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

have  killed  a  man  of  my  tribe,  and  the  avenger  of 
blood  sits  by  my  door.  Neither  may  I  take  part  with 
El  Cocodrilo,  for  I  was  capitan  along  the  Rio  Grande 
in  the  border-fighting,  and  have  killed  more  of  his 
men  than  ye.  But  I  can  take  your  part  against  him. 
Give  me  that  woman  ' — he  pointed  out  my  mother — 
'and  I  shall  be  Yaqui  as  ye.' 

"On  that  the  men  divided.  Luis  Bute  still  held 
for  death,  swearing  that  a  Gringo  always  returned 
to  his  pais.  But  the  man's  careless  bravery  had 
won  Matos,  and  when,  after  a  long  wrangle,  the 
knives  flashed  out  for  the  count,  only  Bute's  was 
turned  against  him.  Put  out  of  my  mother's  blank 
ets  for  the  first  time  that  night,  I  wished  that  the 
knives  had  all  stuck  in  the  ground. 

"But  my  hate  lasted  only  the  night.  When, 
next  morning,  he  took  one  of  the  pistols  he  had  let 
me  clean,  and  brought  down  with  a  single  shot  a 
prong-horn  buck  from  the  rocks  a  hundred  feet 
above,  even  I,  the  boy,  knew  that  if  the  knives  had 
gone  against  him  the  death- wail  would  have  rung 
in  the  hills  for  some  of  ours;  and  that  day  I  fought 
with  the  son  of  Luis  Bute  for  a  jest  cast  at  my  new 
father,  and  thought  myself  paid  for  a  stone  in  the 
face  when  he  himself  bound  the  ragged  wound. 

"'We  shall  be  amigos,  little  one,'  he  said,  patting 
my  head,  and  surely  natural  father  had  never  more 
faithful  son.  Like  his  shadow  I  followed  hin* — even 
into  the  fight  when,  with  the  two  Luis,  he  wiped  out 
a  second  company  of  soldiers  sent  against  us  by  El 

271 


THE    PLANTER 

Flojo,  the  Lazy  One,  who  had  the  governorship  before 
Machetero.  And  as,  after  that,  we  were  let  alone, 
we  hunted,  Reuben  and  I,  through  years  of  slow  peace 
north  to  California,  south  to  where  earth  splits  five 
miles  wide  and  the  mountains  sink  into  the  great 
Barranca  de  Cobre.  Together  we  descended  into  its 
fevered  bowels  under  the  eyes  of  the  cowardly  Gen- 
tilos,  perched  like  vultures  on  the  crags  above.  With 
him  I  visited  the  gentle  Tarahumaris,  the  first  Yaqui 
to  eat  their  salt.  Sitting  at  night  by  our  fire  with 
Celsa,  who  was  born  that  first  year,  between  his 
knees,  he  taught  me  of  his  wisdom,  what  to  look  for, 
and  what  to  ware  in  men,  or  told  me  tales  of  his  own 
land  and  people,  leaving  out  only  the  deed  of  blood 
that  had  driven  him  forth.  Up  to  the  time,  sixteen 
years  later,  that  he  took  Celsa,  a  woman  grown,  to 
the  convent  of  Bocaina,  he  had  never  mentioned  that. 

"'That  she  may  learn  knowledge  in  books  and  give 
good  counsel  after  we  are  gone,'  he  said,  when  Luis 
Bute  asked  what  good  she  would  have  of  it.  And 
there  was  something  of  prophecy  in  the  answer,  for 
he  never  came  back  from  that  trail. 

'"Gone  north  of  the  Rio  Grande.'  Now  grizzled 
and  beaked  like  an  old  eagle,  Luis  Bute  repeated 
his  old  saying,  'A  Gringo  must  return  to  his  pais.' 
But  he  had  travelled  to  a  farther  country;  for  six 
months  later  we  found  his  bones  in  the  mountains 
with  those  of  three  rurales  in  a  circle  around  him — 
an  evil  day,  not  only  by  loss  of  his  wisdom,  but  be 
cause  Machetero  was  come  at  last  to  his  place. 

272 


DAVID'S   BREAD    UPON    THE  WATERS 

"To  understand  what  follows,  you  must  know, 
senors,  that  the  Yaquis  were  always  rancheros. 
Even  during  the  wars  they  would  snatch  time  to  till 
a  crop  in  some  secret  place  in  the  mountains,  and 
during  the  long  peace  they  had  built  a  hundred  vil 
lages  in  as  many  fertile  valleys.  Now  filling  the 
hills  with  soldiers,  Machetero  would  come  on  a  village 
by  night  marches,  fire  the  jacales,  and  shoot  down 
the  people  as  they  rushed  from  the  flames — old  men, 
women  with  child,  young  girls  —  leaving  not  one 
soul  to  spread  the  alarm.  Nor  paused  he  with  their 
total  destruction.  At  all  times  peaceful  Yaquis  had 
brought  produce  into  the  Mexican  towns,  but  now 
they  were  shot,  without  word  or  warning,  and  left 
to  the  dogs  on  the  street.  Neither  respected  he  his 
own  truce.  Withdrawing  his  force,  he  would  wait 
till  some  foolish  family  crawled  back  to  a  burned 
farm,  then  fall  on  again  like  a  half -fed  lion.  Again 
he  sent  for  the  chiefs  to  come  in  for  a  peace-talk, 
promising  safe  conduct  to  go  and  return;  but  of  the 
six  who  went,  only  Luis  Bute  returned,  to  die  of  the 
bullet  that  outraced  his  horse.  So  for  three  years 
he  teased,  harassed  us,  tempting  us  on  to  fight  and 
be  killed,  just  as  a  boy  tempts  a  trapped  panther  to 
strike  to  its  hurt,  and  all  that  time  Celsa,  my  sister, 
was  growing  in  body  and  wisdom  in  the  convent  of 
Bocaina. 

"Twice  or  thrice  a  year  I  would  go  to  see  her,  car 
rying  always  a  buck  or  other  meat  present  to  the  nuns, 
though  I  was  a  marked  man,  now  that  I  stood  in 

273 


THE    PLANTER 

Bute's  place,  and  the  country  swarmed  with  soldiers. 
And  always  she  met  me  the  same.  'They  think  to 
make  a  nun  of  me — of  me,  thy  sister!  But  they  will 
see — only  another  year;  there  is  still  much  to  learn.' 
And  how  she  learned!  Of  books,  the  sisters,  priests, 
people,  and  soldiers  with  whom  she  talked  concerning 
El  Cocodrilo's  intent  toward  us!  Then  one  night  she 
stole  out  and  away  with  me  to  my  camp. 

"Nor  did  she  come  too  soon.  At  this  time  we 
numbered  over  five  thousand,  of  whom  Machetero 
was  rapidly  killing  out  the  rash  and  foolish,  and  now 
those  that  had  not  listened  to  Bute,  would  not  listen 
to  me,  opened  wide  ears  to  her.  She  it  was  who 
warned  them  not  to  molest  the  Gringo  mineros  who, 
as  Reuben  had  foretold,  were  dribbling  over  the 
border.  'For  the  little  finger  of  their  presidente,' 
she  told  them,  'is  thicker  than  the  loin  of  Crocodile. 
Give  him  a  cause  against  us,  and  we  shall  needs  pray 
for  the  return  of  Machetero.'  And  in  order  that  the 
Gringo  should  not  join  hands  against  us,  we  protected 
their  minas  against  the  rurales  whom  Machetero  sent 
against  them  under  Indian  guise. 

"Also  she  warned  us  of  the  storm  brewing  behind 
the  summer  of  a  six  months'  peace  which  followed  a 
proclamation  that  there  should  be  no  more  killing. 
'Killing?  Better  that  than  their  present  intent. 
By  ones,  twos,  threes,  by  hundreds,  or  thousands, 
as  many  as  can  be  got  into  the  trap,  ye  are  to  be 
haltered  like  cattle  and  sold  to  sweat  out  your  lives 
on  the  rubber  and  tobacco  fincas  of  the  tierra  cali- 

274 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

ente.'  All  of  which  she  had  picked  out  of  the  gossip 
of  the  fondas,  for  being  almost  as  light  of  skin  as  Reu 
ben,  she  could  slip  in  and  out  of  the  towns  passing 
for  Spanish.  Hermosillo,  Oposura,  Ures,  Cruces,  she 
visited  them  in  turn  at  long  intervals  so  that  her  face 
should  not  become  known,  and  through  her  Machetero 
was  foiled  so  often  in  the  next  two  years  that  he  raged 
against  her  continually,  and  offered  a  free  pardon  with 
a  thousand  pesos,  silver,  to  any  Yaqui  who  would  bring 
her  in,  dead  or  alive. 

"Ten  times  the  sum  would  not  have  gotten  him  a 
single  hair  of  her  head,  and  with  her  help  and  espi 
onage,  we  held  him  in  check  still  another  year.  But 
to  the  wisest  comes  a  moment  of  weakness,  and  hers, 
at  least,  was  blameless,  for  it  came  not  till  she  grew 
heavy  with  the  grandson  of  Luis  Matos.  'Take  care! 
Take  care !'  She  sent  out  the  warning  when  Machetero 
withdrew  his  detachments  from  the  hill  forts  into 
Chihuahua.  'Take  care!  it  is  only  that  he  makes 
ready  for  a  bigger  hunting/  But  this  time  our  peo 
ple  did  not  listen.  Success  had  turned  their  heads, 
and,  feeding  one  another  tales  of  how  Machetero  was 
beaten  at  last,  they  descended  by  hundreds  from  the 
hills  and  rebuilt  the  burned  villages  in  their  valleys. 

"In  six  months  all  were  at  work  sowing  the  seed 
maize,  too  busy  for  strict  watching,  and  as  Celsa  was 
now  close  to  her  labor  there  was  none  to  report  the 
troops  that  were  occupying  the  northern  passes  by 
stealth.  With  Luis,  her  man,  I  was  spying  on  the 
force  —  the  greatest  ever  sent  against  us  —  that  was 

275 


THE    PLANTER 

being  thrown  in  a  chain,  every  link  a  company,  across 
country  to  the  south.  Even  when  it  began  to  move 
north  we  had  no  great  fear.  By  scores  our  young 
men  slid  through  the  mesh  at  night  to  turn  and  harass 
the  movement  with  incessant  sharp-shooting;  the 
families  thought  to  escape  by  the  passes  to  the  plains 
on  either  hand.  But  this  they  could  not  do,  and 
when,  after  sweeping  up  a  narrowing  plateau  between 
guarded  mountains,  the  ends  of  the  chain  drew  round 
together,  it  held  eight  hundred  Yaquis — men,  women, 
and  children — helpless  as  rabbits  in  the  coil  of  a  py 
thon — with  them,  Celsa  and  her  week-old  babe. 

"Surrounded,  with  machine-guns  trained  on  their 
women  and  children,  the  men  could  only  accept  the 
promise  of  good  treatment  if  they  surrendered.  Si,, 
while  they  were  disarming  the  promises  flew  thick 
and  fast;  but,  the  last  knife  gone,  fathers  were  torn 
from  daughters,  sisters  from  brothers — no  two  of  a 
family  were  left  together.  Babes  were  dragged  from 
the  breast  and  thrown  to  the  ground,  while  their 
shrieking  mothers  were  loaded  into  the  tren  that  was 
to  carry  them  to  sweat  out  their  lives  in  the  tierra 
caliente.  Of  them  all  but  one  lad  was  freed  to  carry 
Machetero's  word  to  me  and  Luis. 

"'Come  in,  and  I  will  make  a  treaty  for  you  and 
yours  to  work  at  peace  on  your  farms.  Stay  out  but 
one  day  after  this  reaches  you,  and  I  will  send  you 
the  head  of  Celsa.' 

"'Us  he  will  surely  kill,'  Luis  said,  as  we  rode; 
'but  with  that  he  may  spare  her  and  the  babe.' 

276 


DAVID'S  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS 

''But  he  had  no  such  mercy  in  mind — for  us.  The 
company  of  rurales  to  which  we  surrendered  hurried 
us  out  to  the  railroad  into  the  tren  with  the  others, 
who  told  us  of  Celsa's  fate. 

"Even  as  the  messenger  left  the  camp  she  was 
brought  with  a  firing-party  in  front  of  Machetero's 
tent  and  given  one  minute  to  pray.  Alone,  she 
would  never  have  faltered,  for  the  soul  of  Reuben 
was  strong  within  her.  But  as  the  rifles  rose  she 
tore  loose  her  bosom,  revealing  the  pouting  breasts 
of  a  mother,  and  she  called  out  that  they  would  also 
kill  her  child,  pleaded,  prayed  for  only  six  months  of 
life  to  give  it  suck.  And,  less  cruel  than  Machetero, 
the  soldiers  lowered  their  rifles.  Three  times  they 
raised  and  lowered.  Twice  the  officer  pointed  his 
own  pistol,  and  as  he  turned  away,  Machetero  rushed 
out,  wildly  cursing,  and  shot — -the  mother  between 
the  breasts,  the  babe,  the  officer,  and  emptied  his 
pistol  at  his  own  men." 

While  he  was  talking  dusk  had  merged  in  night, 
and  the  terrible  climax  fell  on  black  silence.  At  first 
the  recurrent  glow  of  Ewing's  cigar  had  limned  his  face 
in  red  obscurity,  but  while  the  even  voice  flowed  on 
he  had  ceased  smoking,  and  as  he  and  David  sat 
silently  thinking,  occupied  by  the  same  thought,  only 
the  open  doorway  showed  as  a  paler  darkness. 

Three  thousand  and  odd  miles  northward  eager 
crowds  were  hurrying  through  streets  aflame  with 
electroliers,  arc  -  lights,  huge  incandescences,  to 
theatres  ablaze  with  light.  Around  half  a  million 

277 


THE    PLANTER 

quiet  hearths  fathers  smoked  over  the  evening  paper 
while  mothers  sewed  or  knitted  for  the  children  who 
were  conning  the  morrow's  lesson — the  morrow  that 
would  send  the  lawyer  to  his  office,  the  merchant 
to  his  store,  the  farmer  to  his  plough,  the  mechanic 
to  his  mill;  and  of  those  teeming  millions  scattering 
to  a  thousand  peaceful  avocations  not  one  could  fall 
to  the  ground  without  knowledge  of  the  law.  To 
them  romance  was  dead — or  lived  only  in  books 
where  tales  such  as  this  were  read  with  a  shudder 
of  thankfulness  that  the  world  had  grown  wiser, 
more  humane,  beyond  such  things.  Yet — and  it 
seemed  horrible  to  David  sitting  in  darkness  palpi 
tant  with  sorrow — these  iniquities  had  been  done  in 
their  name.  That  their  cities  should  be  increased 
in  gold  and  silver,  swollen  fat  with  produce  of  earth's 
outlying  lands,  this  woman  had  been  slain,  this  man 
sold  into  a  slavery  that  would  coin  his  sweat  and  blood 
into  a  second  profit.  The  spinning  wheels  of  the 
automobiles  then  carrying  luxurious  women  on  er 
rands  of  pleasure,  the  rain-coats  and  rubbers  that 
protected  shapely  shoulders,  dainty  feet,  from  the 
wet,  each  and  all  of  a  thousand  articles,  down  to  the 
nipple  in  the  mouth  of  an  innocent  babe,  the  water- 
bag  in  the  hands  of  the  merciful  nurse,  were  splashed 
with  the  blood  of  the  Yaqui. 

"Y  la  mujer?"  Though  he  spoke  very  quietly, 
Ewing's  voice  evidenced  strain.  "She  who  died  in 
the  monte  of  Hertzer's  bullet?" 

"And  who  took  her  burial  at  the  kind  hands  of 


DAVID'S    BREAD    UPON    THE  WATERS 

the  senor,  here,"  the  level  voice  supplied.  "She  was 
sister  to  Luis  Matos  and  my  woman.  When  chance 
threw  us  into  the  same  tren,  neither  spoke  the  other 
lest  we  be  separated  again.  So  we  came  together 
to  the  one  galera." 

''And  Luis?" 

"I  know  not,  senor — save  only  that  he  was  sent  to 
the  Valle  Nacional." 

Sister,  friends,  wife,  dead  or  scattered!  His  tribe 
broken !  He  who  had  had  his  being  under  the  shadow 
of  eagles  on  sunlit  mountains — a  slave!  They  could 
tender  only  the  sympathy  of  silence,  and  Ewing  was 
rising  when  David  plucked  his  sleeve. 

Under  the  cold  stars  and  out  of  hearing,  he  broke 
out:  "I  knew  it  was  black  business,  but — my  God!" 
After  a  pause  he  went  on:  "You  know  I  took  social 
science  at  Princeton,  and,  like  most  young  fellows 
who  are  cutting  their  teeth  on  evolution,  I  was  swept 
from  my  feet  by  its  swing  and  scope.  I  made  a 
god  of  Gravitation,  worshipped  Natural  Selection.  In 
those  days  I  could  have  written  you  a  beautiful  es 
say  proving  the  necessity  of  all  this,  but  it  is  painful 
to  watch  the  process.  What  futilities  we  are,  Davy! 
Blind  beetles  crawling  on  the  loom  of  fate  till  we  get 
in  the  way  and  are  crushed.  Lust  of  gold,  lust  of 
women,  and  power — the  old  man's  lust — govern  us  as 
they  always  did.  To  gratify  but  one  of  them  we 
would  extirpate  a  race.  It's  horrible.  Let's  sit  down 
here  in  the  fresh  air  till  we  get  the  taste  out  of  our 
mouths. 

279 


THE    PLANTER 

"And  do  you  know,"  he  continued,  after  they  had 
found  a  log  to  sit  on,  "that  I  have  heard  bits  of 
his  story  before?  A  classmate  of  mine  is  manager 
of  a  group  of  mines  in  western  Sonora  that  always 
employs  Yaquis.  Last  time  I  saw  him  in  Mexico 
City  he  told  me  they  were  the  finest  kind  of  workers, 
and  would  give  no  trouble  if  the  government  would 
only  respect  their  just  claims.  At  the  last  outbreak 
his  Yaqui  mandador  escorted  him  out  of  the  country, 
and  when  he  came  back,  months  later,  not  even  a 
tool  was  missing. 

"  He  spoke,  too,  about  the  killing  of  that  woman — 
only  he  had  it  that  she  was  a  teacher  trained  by  the 
nuns  for  service  among  the  Indians — and  he  said  that 
even  the  Mexicans  of  the  border  towns  threw  up  their 
hands  in  horror  at  the  treatment  of  Yaqui  prisoners." 

"Did  you  notice  how  modestly  he  spoke?"  David 
asked.  "  Never  a  word  of  himself." 

"Yes,  and  if  he's  the  man  the  papers  were  full  of 
these  last  years,  he  has  dozens  of  victories  to  his 
credit.  In  some  of  the  big  fights  the  Yaquis  wiped 
out  whole  regiments  of  soldiers." 

"  And  you  still  counsel  me  to  return  him  to  Hert- 
zer?"  David  asked. 

Ewing's  face  showed  grave  under  the  starlight. 
"If  you  don't  he'll  take  him — with  all  sorts  of  un 
pleasant  consequences  to  you." 

"Look  here,  Frank."  Rising,  David  faced  him. 
"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  would  give  him 
up — after  that  story?" 

280 


DAVID'S   BREAD    UPON   THE  WATERS 

"Well,  you  see--" 

"Come,  now — don't  shuffle." 

Looking  into  the  honest  eyes,  earnest  face,  Ewing 
felt  mean.  He  wished  to  say  the  wise  thing  for 
his  friend,  but  the  story  was  still  on  his  nerves, 
and  he  exclaimed,  with  sudden  vehemence :  "  No, 
I'm  damned  if  I  would!  And  I'll  stand  by  you, 
Davy." 

Ewing's  canoe  lay  at  the  landing  all  ready  to  put 
off,  and  though  they  had  spent  an  evening  and  night 
together,  David  had  failed  to  communicate  a  matter 
that  had  lain  at  his  tongue's  tip  all  the  time.  Nor 
did  he  broach  it  until  the  other  had  actually  taken 
his  place. 

"  By-the-way,  Frank,  there's  one  other  thing  I  want 
ed  to  mention.  Miss  Morales — eh — the  senorita,  you 
know — I  was  thinking — stop  grinning,  you  ape !"  With 
a  desperate  dash,  he  went  on:  "It's  a  rotten  shame 
to  have  a  fine  girl  like  that  earning  her  living  in  a 
tourist  store.  She's  been  learning  book-keeping,  and 
as  you  were  kicking  the  other  day  about  being  so 
backward  with  your  accounts,  and  as  I'm  pretty 
busy  myself,  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to — " 

"Go  halves  and  hire  her?  Oh,  Davy,  Davy,  what 
a  specious  excuse!  How  long  would  it  be  before  I 
should  be  back  at  my  own  books  ?  And — really,  you 
know,  she  mightn't  like  to  live  here — without  a  chap- 
erone?" 

"Oh,  shut  up,  you  fool!"  David  ruffled,  grew  red 
'»  281 


THE    PLANTER 

as  a  turkey-cock.  "  Of  course  I  meant  that  she  would 
live  with  you." 

"You  did,  eh?"  Ewing  teased.  "And  what  about 
my  wife?  She  might  not  like  to  have  a  young  lady 
of  such  superlative  attractions  in  my — there! — I'll 
quit!  Don't  heave  that  clod;  it's  big  enough  to  sink 
the  boat."  More  soberly,  but  with  a  twinkle  that  had 
issued  from  some  secret  amusement,  he  added:  "Well, 
I'll  talk  it  over  with  Nell.  Better  slip  in  and  come 
on  home  with  us  when  we  come  back." 

"Can't.     Too  busy." 

"Bet  you  do,"  Ewing  muttered,  as  the  water 
widened  between  them. 


XVII 

A    SURPRISE 

A  JUNGLE  path  is  always  ephemeral;  contin 
ues,  indeed,  only  by  grace  of  the  unwritten  law 
that  all  who  travel  thereon  shall  unsheath  the  saddle 
machete  and  slash  vigorously  as  they  ride  along. 
The  rivers  form  the  highways  for  the  dugouts  which 
carry  to-day  wild  rubber  and  tobacco,  to-morrow 
a  crimson  freight  of  chattering  women  fiesta  bound, 
next  week  a  corpse  on  its  way  to  Christian  burial 
in  the  cemetery  of  San  Juan.  But  whatever  the  oc 
casion — feasting,  freight,  or  death — arrival  and  pas 
sage  are  announced  by  the  same  lugubrious  conch- 
shell. 

Carrying  across  the  plantation  three  days  later, 
Ewing's  returning  blast  recalled  David  from  a  pleas 
ant  dream.  Having  just  seen  the  last  of  a  dozen 
cows  frisk  heels  as  she  was  turned  in  through  the  new 
fence,  he  had  sat  his  horse  and  mused  of  the  time 
when  Verda  should  be  one  great  forest  with  herds 
of  beeves  browsing  beneath  its  stately  rubber.  A 
cafetal  and  cacao  plantation  to  furnish  coffee  and 
chocolate  for  both  breakfast  and  market,  with  orange 

283 


THE    PLANTER 

and  banana  groves,  loomed  quite  near  in  the  future. 
His  order  for  California  navels  was  already  placed  in 
Los  Angeles,  and  that  very  morning  Tadeo  &  Com 
pany  had  begun  to  brush  out  a  piece  of  timbered 
jungle  for  cacao  nurseries  and  the  cafetal.  And  as 
he  now  rode  back  through  the  young  plantings,  the 
serried  stand,  deep,  healthy  gloss  legitimized  the  larger 
dream. 

His  pace  among  the  stumps  of  the  clearing  drew 
from  Ewing,  who  was  talking  with  Magdaleno  in  front 
of  the  store,  a  warning  that  eloquently  testifies  to 
his  physical  change.  "Is  your  neck  insured,  young 
man?  You'll  do  that  once  too  often.  Nell  is  up  at 
the  house — raving  with  hunger.  If  you  don't  wish 
to  be  bitten,  hurry  up  and  see  what  you  have  in  the 
store." 

Investigation  disclosed  canned  tomatoes,  sausage, 
sardines,  and,  despite  Ewing's  reassurances,  David's 
confusion  at  their  insufficiency  prevented  him  from 
observing  his  twinkle  and  Magdaleno's  grin.  A  du 
plicate  of  the  twinkle  sparkled  in  Mrs.  Ewing's  eye 
as  she  stepped  outside  to  meet  him,  and  what  with  his 
mixed  confusion  and  pleasure  he  did  not  see  any  one 
else  until  a  quiet  voice  broke  in  on  his  welcomes. 

"Don  David  has  forgotten  me." 

One  glance  into  the  friendly  brown  eyes,  and  Ham 
burger  sausage,  tomatoes,  sardines  cataracted  to  the 
ground,  while  David  grabbed  the  small  hand  as  though 
he  intended  to  keep  it  for  life.  Indeed,  he  did  not  let 
go  until  Mrs.  Ewing  interposed  a  laughing  remon- 

284 


A   SURPRISE 

strance.  "  Really,  Davy,  she  may  need  it.  And  we 
are  all  so  hungry!  Open  those  cans,  and  perhaps  she 
will  let  you  take  it  again." 

Red  delight  showing  through  mock  sternness,  he 
turned  upon  her.  "So  this  is  why  Magdaleno  gave 
me  a  'nada,  nada'  whenever  I  mentioned  a  new  man- 
dador?  I  wondered  why  he  was  so  contented.  Ex 
plain?  What  does  it  all  mean?" 

"Only  that  we  anticipated  your  lovely  scheme," 
she  answered,  laughing.  "Oh,  cunning  Davy!  Frank 
told  us  all  about  it.  And  did  you  think  I  would  let 
her  go  for  good — and  I  so  lonely?  Why,  it  was  all 
arranged  before  we  left,  only  I  wouldn't  let  her  tell 
you  because  you  had  been  so  cross.  And  now  aren't 
you  glad  I  did  not?  But  come,  pick  up  those  things 
and  come  in.  I  routed  out  your  old  woman,  and  the 
tortillas  are  almost  ready." 

The  cans  opened,  she  took  him  quietly  by  the  shoul 
ders  and  forced  him  down  on  the  catre  beside  Ewing, 
then  continued  her  merry  rattle  while  helping  Con- 
suela  to  set  the  table.  "And  oh,  Davy,  we  had  such 
a  lovely  time!  They  have  a  new  soprano  at  the 
Teatro  Nacional,  an  Italienne — Tetrazzini.  She  sings 
divinely,  and  her  colorature  is  perfect.  From  here 
she  goes  to  San  Francisco,  then  New  York.  Of  course, 
they  will  claim  her  discovery,  but  Ciudad  Mexico  did 
it,  with  the  assistance  of  Consuela  and  me.  You 
should  hear  her  Lucia!  We  went  every  night  that 
she  sang,  unescorted,  to  the  great  scandal  of  la  senora, 
who  threw  up  her  hands  in  horror,  but  gave  us  up 


THE    PLANTER 

after  a  few  feeble  protests.  After  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  the  parting,  nothing  would  suit  her  but 
that  Consuela  should  be  rebuilt  on  the  Americana  plan. 
So  every  day  we  went  shopping — oh,  Frank,  when  you 
see  my  bill! — and  we  helped  each  other  choose  our 
things.  Behold  the  result!" 

Though  David  could  not  have  told  the  colors  of  the 
pretty  travelling-dress  and  becoming  hat  if  he  had 
been  called  upon  to  turn  his  back,  his  first  glance  had 
impressed  him  with  a  difference.  He  felt  as  men  feel, 
without  analysis,  the  taste  in  cut  and  material,  the 
style  that  added  distinction  to  her  natural  charms; 
but  if  he  admired  as  well  as  felt  it,  the  feeling  was 
not  unalloyed.  A  touch  of  disappointment  may  have 
inhered  in  the  fact  that  he  had  felt  closer  to  her 
while  she  wore  the  reboza  and  plain  black.  A  feeling 
of  racial  superiority,  so  slight  as  to  be  unconscious, 
still  offset  his  tendency  to  self-depreciation.  The 
pretty  clothes  brought  her  up  to  his  plane,  yet  set 
her  further  apart.  Just  when  he  was  having  trouble 
enomgh  to  rise  from  the  mire  of  recent  temptation, 
sloughs  of  self-doubt,  to  climb  the  peaks  on  which, 
as  aforesaid,  his  fancy  had  enthroned  her,  presto! 
she  was  removed  to  further  heights. 

This  feeling  colored  his  comment.  "It's  immense; 
but  I  loved  the  reboza."  An  answer  which  gained  him 
an  undeserved  credit ;  for  be  a  woman  never  so  happy 
in  new  clothes,  she  loves  to  think  herself  valued  just 
as  highly  in  the  old. 

Deserved  or  not,  Consuela's  kindling  smile  brought 
286 


A   SURPRISE 

her  again  within  his  range,  filled  him  with  one  of 
those  absurd  happinesses  which  are  provided  under 
the  law  of  compensation  to  balance  the  pains  of  love. 
Thereafter  he  was  content  to  watch  the  soft  contours 
of  throat  and  chin  shift  as  she  moved  around  the 
table,  the  long  lashes  that  swept  down  to  the  health- 
blush  as  they  sat  at  the  meal,  luxuriating  the  while 
in  a  sense  of  her  nearness.  Her  presence  filled  the 
hut  like  sunshine;  was  to  him  as  warm,  palpitant, 
real  as  a  delicate  aroma.  And  as  Mrs.  Ewing  shoul 
dered  the  burden  of  conversation,  there  was  nothing 
to  interfere  with  his  silent  enjoyment. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  the  meal  that  she  asked 
about  the  Yaqui.  "  Frank  told  us  all  about  it.  How 
is  he?" 

"So  well,"  David  answered,  "that  I  lent  him  my 
rifle  to  go  out  and  try  for  a  'gator  who  has  been  haunt 
ing  our  bathing  playa.  I  thought  the  exercise  would 
do  him  good." 

"The  dickens  you  did!"  Ewing  exclaimed.  "Your 
rifle,  too?  Do  you  ever  expect  to  see  him  again?" 

"Oh  yes,  he'll  come  back,"  he  added.  "I  rather 
wish  he  wouldn't." 

"By  Jove,  that's  so!"  Ewing  admitted.  "That 
might  be  the  best  way  out  of  it.  Though  even  then 
Hertzer  would  be  pretty  sure  to  sick  the  Jefe  on  you 
for  damages." 

"What  a  complete  scoundrel  he  is!"  his  wife  put  in. 
"  At  home  we  would  as  soon  think  of  placing  a  Bowery 
thug  on  our  visiting  -  list.  Like  trouble,  the  tropics 

287  • 


THE    PLANTER 

give  one  strange  bedfellows.  We  have  to  know  each 
other.  And,  do  you  know,  with  all  his  brutality  I 
find  myself  harboring  a  sneaking  admiration.  He  is 
so  thorough  in  it  all,  and  has  such  fine  streaks  run 
ning  through  his  coarseness.  His  love  for — " 

"  Hush !"  Whispering,  her  husband  added:  "  Speak 
of  the  devil!"  And  the  next  moment  Hertzer's  bulk 
filled  the  doorway. 

As  before  mentioned,  a  jacale  offers  no  more  opposi 
tion  than  a  bird-cage  to  the  passage  of  sound,  and 
whether  he  had  heard  his  name  while  tying  his  beast 
at  the  store,  or  judged  by  the  sudden  silence,  he  hesi 
tated  and  slid  a  suspicious  glance  from  under  drooped 
eyelids.  He  entered  at  once,  however,  on  David's 
invitation,  and  distributed  nonchalant  greetings  all 
round. 

"Patricia  told  me  that  you  had  gone  by  without 
stopping,"  he  said  to  Ewing,  "so  I  felt  pretty  sure 
you  were  straining  to  make  here  for  lunch  and  home 
by  dark.  Glad  to  see  you  back,  ma'am.  Any  dry- 
goods  left  in  Mexico?  Patricia  was  trying  to  per 
suade  me  to  go  up  on  a  little  pasear,  but  I  told  her 
she'd  better  wait  till  the  stores  had  a  chance  to  re 
stock.  Como  esta  V.  senorita?  Thanks,  Mann,  but 
I  had  a  bite  with  Phelps.  I  will  take  a  cup  of  coffee." 

Seated,  his  glance  returned  to  Consuela,  without, 
however,  any  of  the  familiarity  that  had  enraged 
David  during  his  sickness.  Expressing  admiration 
mingled  with  a  touch  of  wonder,  it  left  her  the  in 
stant  she  caught  his  eye.  And  when  Mrs.  Ewing  ex- 

288 


A   SURPRISE 

plained  the  situation  his  comment  was  neither  under 
nor  over  done. 

"That  will  be  nice,  ma'am,  for  you  and  Patricia — all 
of  us.  There  are  too  few  white  women  on  this  river." 

All  the  while  he  had  been  fumbling  the  knots  of  a 
handkerchief  he  had  placed  on  the  table,  and  now 
stretching  the  wings  of  a  gorgeous  butterfly,  with  a 
delicacy  wonderful  in  his  strong  hands,  he  placed  it 
for  comparison  beside  a  fresh-picked  orchid. 

"Got  them  both  as  I  came  along,"  he  said.  "Mis 
took,  first,  the  plant  for  the  fly,  then  the  fly  for  the 
plant.  Wonderful,  isn't  it?" 

In  the  beautiful  variegation  of  gold,  umber,  and  car 
mine,  correspondence  of  pistils  with  antennae,  down 
to  minute  markings,  each  exactly  resembled  the  other. 
The  plant  might  have  been  the  insect  spreading  for 
flight,  the  insect  the  plant  aflame  in  warm  shade. 

"I've  seen  this  sort  of  thing  before,"  he  said,  as 
they  admired,  exclaimed,  "but  never  so  perfect  in 
detail."  And  thus  launched  on  his  favorite  subject, 
he  ran  on  to  tell  of  curious  biological  coincidences  he 
had  observed  in  his  wide  travel. 

As  usual,  when  possessed  by  his  one  enthusiasm,  his 
face  lit  up  as  he  talked.  The  heavy  features  seemed 
to  flow  into  lighter  mould;  his  eyelids  raised,  abolish 
ing  the  suspicion  in  the  eyes,  which  softened  almost 
to  liquidity.  And  he  spoke  well,  accompanying  pithy 
descriptions  of  plants  with  circumstances  or  events 
attending  their  finding.  Sometimes  humorous,  occa 
sionally  tragic,  always  grim  or  grotesque,  these  were 

289 


THE   PLANTER 

vividly  alive  as  the  seamy  side  of  the  tropical  life 
they  displayed.  Mrs.  Ewing's  healthy  pallor  soon 
paid  tribute  of  rose  to  their  interest ;  Consuela's  riper 
colors  took  on  a  richer  glow;  even  David  forgot  his 
speculations  on  the  intent  of  this  visit.  Uncon 
sciously  they  entered  into  one  of  those  hours,  all 
too  rare  when  company,  mood,  and  occasion  combine 
to  drug  the  sense  of  flying  time.  Presently  Ewing 
was  stimulated  to  contributory  recollections.  With 
delight  his  wife  would  pounce  on  some  fact  connected 
with  her  own  experience.  From  a  life  utterly  alien 
to  theirs,  Consuela  drew  happenings,  strange  or 
quaint.  And  David — he  watched  her ;  not  alone,  for 
despite  his  interest  Hertzer's  glance  returned  to  her 
again  and  again,  always  with  the  same  mixture  of 
puzzle  and  admiration.  Yet  this  interest  was  sub 
servient  to  his  subject;  from  which  he  never  once 
strayed  up  to  the  moment  that,  looking  at  David,  he 
disrupted  their  pleasant  mood  with  the  explosion  of 
his  purpose. 

"But  this  isn't  business.  I'm  wasting  your  time 
as  well  as  my  own.  I  came  to  get  my  man.  It  was 
mighty  good  of  you  to  look  after  him,  but  I  suppose 
you  went  on  the  principle  that  one  good  turn  deserves 
another.  Still,  gratitude  has  its  limits,  and  as  I  under 
stand  that  he  is  able  to  be  up  and  around,  I  won't 
have  you  bothered  any  longer." 

The  cold  effrontery  of  it  made  Ewing  gasp.  Until 
he  remembered  its  accidental  beginnings  he  was  in 
clined  to  think  that  the  man's  conversation  this  past 

290 


A   SURPRISE 

hour  had  aimed  to  create  a  feeling  favorable  to  him 
self;  and  even  after  he  rejected  the  thought  as  pre 
posterous,  he  saw  that,  if  accidental,  Hertzer  fully 
realized  the  advantage.  Effrontery!  After  taking 
advantage  of  David's  sickness  to  extort  a  scoundrelly 
profit,  he  was  now  trying  to  bind  him  with  the  memory 
of  that  cancelled  service,  silence  him  with  the  gag  of 
gratitude. 

It  was  a  difficult  situation ;  but  where  a  more  subtle 
man  might  have  felt  bound,  David's  plain  honesty 
burst  the  false  bonds.  Very  steadily  he  answered  that 
the  man  was  no  trouble. 

Negatively  the  reply  amounted  to  a  refusal  to  yield 
the  Yaqui,  yet  it  lacked  the  resistance  of  a  positive 
statement,  and  for  a  second  Hertzer  hesitated.  Then 
he  took  the  bull  by  the  horns.  "  Kind  of  you  to  say 
so,  but  I  brought  a  led  horse  with  me,  and  I'll  take 
him  along." 

"No,  you  won't." 

This  time  there  was  nothing  left  for  doubt.  At  the 
blunt  answer  Ewing  looked  at  Hertzer  in  quick  alarm, 
nerving  himself  for  an  outburst.  Less  informed,  the 
women  yet  straightened  instinctively  in  their  seats. 
But  as  Phelps  always  said  of  Hertzer,  "you  never  can 
tell  what  he  will  do  till  he's  done  the  opposite."  He 
began  to  tie  up  the  orchid  with  a  multitude  of  small 
pats,  deft  touches,  nor  looked  up  till  it  was  done  to 
his  satisfaction.  Then,  crossing  his  arms,  he  looked 
at  David  over  the  table. 

"Why?" 

291 


THE    PLANTER 

Irresponsible  as  the  glare  of  a  tiger,  and  more  cruel 
by  reason  of  the  thought  which  governed  its  leaping 
lights,  cold  sparkle,  that  hard  gaze  expressed  his 
record,  the  vindictive  will,  indifference  to  conse 
quences,  contempt  of  life — his  own  or  others.  Yet 
David  did  not  flinch.  Rather  he  leaned  farther  over 
the  table,  chin  thrust  out  in  a  way  that  raised  a  sud 
den  memory  in  Consuela. 

And  he  spoke  very  quietly.  "Let  me  tell  you 
something,  Hertzer — a  left-over  from  our  last  quarrel. 
The  night  I  waited  for  this  man  in  the  jungle  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  return  him  to  you  until 
you  promised  decent  treatment.  Now  that  I  know 
you  to  be  incapable  of  it — " 

"Nonsense!"  Hertzer  shrugged.  "This  is  no  ques 
tion  of  enganchars.  If  it  was,  you  could  only  claim 
that  I  manage  to  get  a  bit  more  out  of  them  than  the 
average  planter.  The  Yaquis  are  my  personal  prop 
erty,  and  I  care  for  them  accordingly — as  if  they  were 
my  horses  or  dogs.  This  man  in  particular  has  no 
cause  of  complaint — " 

"  You  flogged  him — almost  to  death." 

"After  he  had  killed  my  velador  and  run  away. 
His  own  life  is  forfeit  by  that  murder.  I  can  at  any 
moment  take  him  down  to  San  Juan  for  execution. 
Instead,  I  made  him  my  moso — " 

"The  better  to  torment  him,  bruise  his  spirit." 

"Perhaps."  This  time  Hertzer  grinned.  "Until 
he  knuckles  under.  But  the  fact  remains — he  abused 
a  roustabout's  privilege  to  move  freely  round  the 

292 


A   SURPRISE 

camp  by  running  away.  For  that  I'll  flog  him 
again." 

"When  you  get  him." 

Again  Ewing  nerved  himself.  But  whatever  in 
fluenced  him — contempt  for  David's  callowness,  re 
spect  for  his  courage,  the  women's  presence,  or  a 
combination  of  all — Hertzer  only  laughed.  "As  you 
say — when  I  get  him."  With  an  invitation  for  Con- 
suela  and  Mrs.  Ewing  to  come  over  and  see  Patricia, 
he  went  out,  but  turned  to  look  back  at  Ewing.  "As 
you  have  just  come  up,  I  suppose  you  have  no  errands 
for  San  Juan?  I'm  going  down  to-morrow." 

"None,  thank  you." 

Making  the  offer,  his  glance  had  touched  David  ever 
so  lightly,  and  as  his  departing  hoof -beats  died,  Ewing 
explained  its  threat.  "He's  going  to  sick  the  Jefe 
on  you,  Davy.  The  thing  that  astonishes  me  is  that 
he  should  think  you  worth  the  trouble.  I  fully  ex 
pected  him  to  break  the  pair  of  us  over  his  knee, 
then  go  sailing  away  with  his  man.  It  isn't  a  very 
flattering  theory,  but,  really,  I  believe  you  amuse 
him." 

"Takes  me  for  some  new  sort  of  a  joke,  eh?"  David 
asked,  smiling.  "Well,  I  must  say  that  I  prefer  his 
contempt  to  his  fist." 

"And  we  must  go,  too."  Mrs.  Ewing  rose.  "We 
won't  make  home  as  it  is  until  after  dark.  You  are 
coming  with  us,  Davy?" 

With  a  regretful  glance  at  Consuela,  he  shook  his 
head.  "Can't.  We  began  clearing  for  cacao  this 

293 


THE    PLANTER 

morning,  and  I  cannot  leave  for  a  couple  of  days.     I 
will  ride  over  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

But  he  went  down  with  them  to  the  landing. 

While  he  and  Hertzer  had  sat  at  gaze  Consuela  had 
remained  perfectly  still,  the  glow  of  her  eyes  alone 
revealing  her  tense  interest.  She  was  very  quiet, 
parting,  but  the  colors  of  excitement  were  still  flying 
under  the  wide  brim  of  the  new  hat  after  the  boat  had 
shoved  off,  and  just  before  they  took  the  bend  she 
turned  to  Mrs.  Ewing,  speaking  in  Spanish,  as  she 
always  did  to  express  complex  thought. 

"  I  know  now  what  you  meant  when  you  said  that 
sometimes  you  almost  liked  the  Senor  Hertzer — it 
is  the  strength,  confidence,  power  behind  the  cold 
fire." 

"  Funny  that  it  should  appeal  so  strongly  to  wom 
en,"  Ewing  commented,  on  his  wife's  assent;  "but  it 
always  does." 

"Why  not,  sonny?"  Leaning,  she  gently  tapped 
his  cheek.  "It  is  the  complement  of  our  weakness. 
We  must  have  something  to  lean  on.  I  don't  think 
that  I  am  naturally  more  vicious  than  the  average 
woman,  yet  if  I  had  to  choose  between  wicked 
strength  and  righteous  weakness,  good-bye  my  hopes 
of  heaven.  It  is  an  instinct,  a  survival,  I  suppose, 
from  the  bad  old  times  of  the  earth.  But  it  is  there, 
and  you  ought  to  be  thankful  that  we  have  progressed 
sufficiently  to  prefer  strength  allied  with  goodness." 
Indicating  David's  distant  figure,  she  finished:  "And 
there  you  have  the  combination." 

294 


A   SURPRISE 

"Si,"  Consuela  musingly  agreed.  "Don  David  is 
very  good." 

Though  delivered  with  gentle  gravity,  some  subtle 
accent  caused  Mrs.  Ewing  to  look  up  quickly,  and  the 
results  of  her  observation  came  out  in  a  bedroom  chat 
that  night. 

"Davy  isn't  going  to  have  such  easy  sailing,"  she 
said,  while  combing  her  hair.  "  Oh  yes,  she  likes  him, 
but  liking  isn't  love.  It  is  very  lamentable,  and  I 
know  that  we  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves,  but 
the  best  of  us  like  a  touch  of  deviltry  in  a  man.  And 
Davy  is  so  very  steady." 

"If  he  were  to  get  drunk,  or  kill  some  one,  do  you 
think  that  would  satisfy  your  criminal  instincts?" 
Ewing  asked,  laughing. 

"Don't  be  silly,  Frank.  You  know  what  I  mean. 
That  girl  has  to  be  conquered." 

"Well,  you  just  give  Davy  his  chance.  A  lad  who 
has  sand  enough  to  defy  Hertz er  is  not  going  to  take 
a  simple  'no'  from  any  girl." 


XVIII 

ITS    SEQUEL 

WAS  there  ever  woman  who  could  refrain  from 
lending  Senor  Dan  Cupid  a  helping  hand?  If 
so,  her  name  was  not  Elinor  Ewing. 

While  dressing  on  the  morning  that  David  was  ex 
pected,  she  put  down  a  small  foot — which  was  none 
the  less  heavy  because  clad  in  its  own  delicate  integu 
ment — upon  a  plan  which  Ewing  had  just  evolved. 
"Dynamite  fish,  indeed?"  she  said,  with  a  pretty 
sniff.  "  Do  you  suppose  he's  hankering  for  fish  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  your  own  love-making — so  soon?" 
And  even  when  she  had  been  gathered  in  and  petted 
until  the  horrible  doubt  vanished,  she  still  continued 
to  play  football  with  his  plan.  "  No,  sir,  it  is  all  ar 
ranged.  Joaquin's  woman  has  made  me  some  Indian 
lace,  and  Davy  is  going  with  Consuela  to  get  it." 

Thus  it  was,  that  midway  of  the  forenoon,  the  pair 
came  to  be  following  a  jungle  path  which  now  flowed 
like  a  stream  of  sunshine  between  rank  green  hedges, 
again  plunged  through  dank  tunnels  overlaced  with 
bejuca  tangles,  and  so  by  alternations  led  on  to  a  tiny 
clearing  at  the  lip  of  the  singing  river.  Rich  in  its 

296 


-ITS   SEQUEL 

sere  colors  as  a  straw  beehive,  Joaquin's  jacale  rose 
by  a  shallow  strand  where  lazily  swung  his  canoe, 
and,  turning  the  corner,  they  saw  the  cause  of  the 
laughter  that  had  floated  out  to  meet  them,  and  were 
carried  back  ten  thousand  years  to  Eden's  ancient 
garden.  Two  golden  children,  boy  and  girl,  were  dash 
ing  water  over  a  golden  mother  whose  white  teeth 
flashed  as  each  shower  spread  a  wet  veil  over  her 
comely  amplitudes.  Just  so  might  Eve  have  frol 
icked  with  her  younglings  in  Pison  eastward  of  the 
Garden;  and,  innocent  as  Eve,  the  woman  gave  them 
smiling  greeting  ere  she  began  her  toilet. 

Though  now  well  broken  to  such  innocent  nudity, 
David  blushed  for  his  companion  —  embarrassment 
that  deepened  into  shame  for  itself  as  he  noted  her 
unconcern.  For  while  he  stood,  regretting  once  again 
a  training  which  had  laid  such  stress  on  clothes,  she 
walked  on  to  the  water's  edge  and  talked  to  the  chil 
dren  till  the  mother  dressed. 

"Are  they  not  lovely?"  she  asked,  coming  back, 
and  her  fearless  eyes,  clear  and  thoughtless  as  those 
of  a  deer,  sharpened  his  shame  while  banishing  his 
confusion.  Never  did  enthusiastic  defender  of  the 
nude  in  art  feel  more  keenly  that  indecency  resides 
in  the  seeing  eye.  Withal,  he  was  thankful  for  the 
interval  which  permitted  him  to  school  his  colors, 
and  he  breathed  easier  when,  the  lace  in  hand,  they 
back-trailed  on  the  path. 

To  the  equatorial  eye  a  northern  courtship  drags 
its  slow  progressions  with  Cupid  in  the  part  of  a  herd 

297 


THE    PLANTER 

goading  reluctant  maids  and  tardy  swains  on  to 
frozen  consummations.  In  the  tropics  he  flies  like  a 
hurdler,  taking  in  his  stride  all  the  steps  which  appear 
necessary  to  temperate  imaginations,  and  whether  or 
no  David's  staid  tradition  had  suffered  by  the  cli 
mate,  his  wooing,  going  back,  proceeded  at  unparal 
leled  speed. 

It  had  not,  for  the  matter  of  that,  gone  so  very  slow 
ly  coming  out.  An  hour  together  over  his  books — 
which  he  had  brought  over  for  that  purpose — had 
worn  the  edge  off  his  bashfulness,  and  when,  starting 
out,  she  had  demanded  an  opinion  on  a  walking-skirt, 
sombrero,  and  the  smallest  pair  of  high-laced  boots 
that  were  to  be  had  in  the  city  of  Mexico,  he  had 
risen  greatly  to  the  occasion. 

"Look  like  an  Americana?     Yes,  only — nicer." 

"Than  she?"  she  had  pursued,  head  tilted  at  a 
quizzical  slant. 

"Humph!     Please  don't!" 

Some  fleeting  memory  of  a  large  foot  which  had 
once  escaped  from  Kate's  carefully  trained  skirts  was 
responsible  for  his  vehemence,  but  if  it  gained  him  a 
smile,  her  curiosity  was  also  whetted.  "  Tell  me  about 
her — all  ?"  she  had  commanded,  as  they  began  to  walk. 

He  might  have  lied  without  violation  of  the  con 
ventions,  but  with  rare  sense  he  refrained  from  in 
sulting  the  vivacious  intelligence  behind  the  smiling 
eyes.  Describing  Kate,  he  could  not  but  wonder  at 
the  meagre  details  memory  supplied — a  bouncing  girl 
with  a  fine  figure,  unlimited  appetites  for  pleasure  and 

298 


-ITS   SEQUEL 

admiration,  and  small  scruples  as  to  how  they  were 
fed,  was  about  all  he  could  remember.  During  some 
dearth  of  her  usual  masculine  aliment  she  had  given 
him  full  benefit  of  fine  eyes,  and  he  had  succumbed 
(from  sheer  inexperience,  he  put  it),  and  after  hear 
ing  all  the  symptoms  Consuela  had  accepted  the  diag 
nosis. 

"  No,"  she  agreed,  shaking  her  head,  "  that  was  not 
love." 

At  this  point  in  an  emotional  investigation,  whose 
scope  he  would  fain  have  widened,  she  had  swooped 
with  her  sombrero  after  a  butterfly,  and,  having  drop 
ped  upon  it  with  the  soft  flexures  of  a  child,  she  made 
him  stoop  to  examine  the  variegation  of  color  and 
markings.  And  thereafter  her  attention  was  entire 
ly  engrossed  by  external  objects.  He  had  to  study 
insects,  climb  trees  after  orchids,  pick  flowers — labors 
that  were  not  without  their  compensations.  Over 
one  wee  blossom  they  drew  so  closely  that  her  breath 
warmed  his  hand,  her  hair  brushed  his  cheek  as  she 
glanced  up  to  speak,  and  before  the  guarding  lashes 
wiped  him  out,  he  saw  himself  for  a  delirious  moment 
dancing  in  her  eyes.  He  had  been  still  thrilling  when 
the  path  debouched  on  the  clearing. 

Now,  and  very  much  to  his  satisfaction,  she  seemed 
less  active,  more  thoughtful.  As  she  walked  ahead, 
quietly  musing,  he  was  able  to  observe  without  fear 
of  offence  the  rich  contours  of  cheek  and  neck  round 
into  the  shadowy  glow  under  her  chin,  the  straight 
young  back  uprising  columnwise  from  rounded  hips, 

299 


THE    PLANTER 

lithe  limbs  that  moved  with  the  easy  glide  peculiarly 
Latin.  And  he  was  taking  all  the  advantages  of  the 
position  when  she  suddenly  turned,  indicating  a  saber 
by  the  river's  brink. 

"  Let  us  sit  down." 

"Barkis  was  willin'."  And  while  she  cuddled  into 
the  chair-like  roots,  he  selected  a  higher  boll  which 
permitted  him  to  continue  his  pleasant  study  as, 
leaning  cheek  on  hand,  she  looked  out  over  the  river. 
Her  pensiveness  accentuated  that  peculiar  charm, 
certain  elusive  mystery,  which  had  baffled  his  analysis 
often  as  he  had  thought  of  it.  In  it  was  no  taint  of 
the  occult,  nothing  esoteric;  nor  did  it  take  out  from 
a  morbid  or  twisted  psychology.  A  healthy  girl,  live 
ly  and  intelligent,  she  had  yet  all  of  woman's  ex 
perience  before  her — love,  marriage,  child-bearing,  of 
which  vast  continent  of  experience  the  expression 
was  a  reflection.  Equally  inexperienced,  he  could  not 
know  this,  but  simply  felt  its  tantalizing  suggestion  of 
feeling  untouched  and  unexplored. 

So  wrapped  was  she  in  her  thought,  he  hesitated 
to  intrude  with  a  question  calculated  to  renew  the 
aforesaid  emotional  investigation  until  her  lips  trem 
bled  to  a  small  smile.  Then  he  said: 

"You  were  thinking — of  him?" 

Looking  up  in  quick  surprise,  she  looked  as  quickly 
down  to  hide  a  mischievous  sparkle.  "  How  did  you 
know?" 

"Guessed.  You  must  tell — even  as  you  made  me 
tell  you.  Did  you — " 

300 


-ITS   SEQUEL 

"  Love  him  ?"  She  vigorously  nodded.  "  Yes,  there 
could  be  no  mistake  in  my  case.  I  adored,  idolized 
him — was  never  happy  out  of  his  presence. ' '  Stealth 
ily  peeping  at  his  unhappy  face,  she  added:  "  I  always 
cried  when  he  left  me." 

She  peeped  again  at  him  darkly,  staring  over  the 
river.  After  a  miserable  silence,  he  asked:  "  Then  why 
didn't  you — " 

"  Marry  him  ?     I— I  couldn't.     He— he  left  me. ' ' 

"The  brute!"  he  exclaimed,  touched  even  in  his 
misery  by  her  apparent  emotion.  Then,  with  a  good 
deal  of  thankfulness,  he  went  on:  "How  could  he?" 

She  shook  her  bowed  head,  and,  looking  down,  he 
saw  her  shoulders  were  shaking,  so  he  tempered  the 
bitterness  of  his  next  remark  with  sympathy.  "  Then 
you  still  love  him?" 

"  I  always  shall,  senor.  You  see,  he  came  very 
early  into  my  life.  And  he  was  so  handsome — tall, 
slim,  nose  aquiline,  hair  very  soft,  lovely  and  white — " 

"White!" 

She  gave  him  wide,  innocent  eyes.  "To  be  sure; 
I  am  speaking  of  my  father." 

He  felt  too  much  relief  to  join  her  laugh,  and  there 
was  still  room  for  catastrophe.  "  Was  there  —  no 
other?" 

The  sun  shone  again,  when  she  shook  her  head,  with 
a  chastened  light  as  she  went  on  to  give  the  lonely 
reason.  She  was  very  young  when  her  father  died; 
afterward  the  convent  school;  and  if  her  own  taste 
had  not  revolted  against  the  rough  men  of  her  step- 

301 


THE    PLANTER 

mother's  circle  they  could  never  have  passed  a  guard 
zealous  as  that  of  the  fiery  dragon  of  fable.  "She 
was  very  jealous  for  me,"  she  finished  her  simple 
annals,  "but  always  kind.  How  she  cried  when  I 
came  away!" 

Of  that  David  had  heard  from  Mrs.  Ewing  that 
morning.  "I  am  unfit!"  the  big  brown  woman  had 
cried.  "A  rough  woman  in  a  rougher  trade!  I  did 
my  best  to  keep  the  child  from  evil,  but  now  she  is 
grown  she  will  have  no  more  good  of  me.  So  take 
her,  senora — take  her  where  she  may  be  good  and 
free."  Then,  like  a  prophet  of  old,  she  had  wrapped 
her  head  in  her  mantle,  refusing  sustenance. 

Now  the  girl  increased  his  knowledge  with  many 
a  tale  of  generous  kindness,  finishing:  "But  she 
knew  as  well  as  I  that  some  day  I  must  leave 
her," 

From  her  past  the  pendulum  swung  naturally  to 
his,  and  as  its  narration  entailed  some  description  of 
a  life  to  which  she  was  unfamiliar,  he  was  drawn  on 
to  talk  of  the  United  States  as  a  whole — of  its  mills, 
mines,  factories,  huge  railway  systems,  great  cities, 
the  teeming  millions  whose  each  unit  meshes  har 
moniously  in  the  complex  machinery  of  that  greatest 
of  social  organisms.  To  her  the  tale  might  well  have 
seemed  incredulous,  but,  if  her  brows  arched  occa 
sionally,  her  quick  intelligence  not  only  grasped  its 
magnitude,  but  also  proved  its  truth  by  a  quick  re 
mark: 

"  It  must  be  so.  How  else  could  the  Americanos 
302 


—ITS   SEQUEL 

who  came  to  Mexico  be  so  rich?  It  must  be  made 
out  of  some  one." 

The  naive  comment  reminded  him  so  strongly  of 
a  socialist  orator  whom  he  had  heard  expounding  the 
Marxian  theory  at  a  street  corner  in  New  York  that 
he  almost  laughed.  A  quick  glance  showed  her  in 
nocently  serious  of  propaganda,  and  he  was  moved 
to  inquire  into  the  coincidence. 

"In  Mexico  the  hacendados  enrich  themselves  by 
the  labor  of  their  peons,"  she  answered.  "Can  an 
Americano  become  rich  save  by  the  labor  of  others  ? 
What  of  the  peons  of  La  Luna,  Verda,  Las  Glorias, 
whose  sweat  is  being  coined  into  American  gold?" 

It  was  one  more  surprise  to  add  to  the  many  she 
had  given  him — the  last  required  to  wreck  the  flash 
ing-black-eyes,  rose-in-the-hair,  cigarro-in-the-patio 
conception  of  the  Mexican  senorita  he  had  gained 
from  American  fiction.  In  its  place  arose  a  new  ideal 
of  woman,  tender,  loving,  devoted,  a  mother  in  em 
bryo,  the  same  the  world  over  in  all  but  externals. 

"  You  were  never  in  Mexico  or  other  of  our  towns  ?" 
she  went  on.  "Then  you  do  not  know  the  peon. 
At  home  he  works  one  day  to  eat  for  three,  and  with 
a  few  extra  centavos  to  celebrate  the  fiestas  he  is 
happy  as  can  be.  So  you  may  know  what  slavery 
to  him  is  this  of  the  plantations.  It  makes  me  sad 
to  see  them  trailing  in  and  out  of  the  fields.  Of  course 
the  Senor  Ewing  is  kind.  But  he  leaves  all  to  his 
mandador.  And  the  others — of  them  all,  you  alone 
have  any  heart.  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  It  would  " 

303 


THE    PLANTER 

— she  lowered  almost  to  a  whisper  —  "might  make 
amends,  help  me  to  forget — the  bread  that  I  have 
eaten — that  chokes  me  whenever  I  remember  it  was 
earned  in  this  shameful  trade." 

"You  did  not  know,"  he  comforted.  "It  could 
not  be  held  against  you.  And  you  are  going  to  help 
me.  By  taking  the  books  off  my  hands  you  leave 
me  more  time  to  plan  and  work  for  them." 

"But  I  want  to  do  more,"  she  said,  brightening 
withal.  "If  you  would  tell  me  your  plans  I  could 
help  you  with  counsel,  for  I  know  the  peon — what 
he  can  and  what  he  will  not  do." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  he  enthusiastically  agreed. 
"I'd  love  to." 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  with  a  satisfied  sigh,  and  so 
returned  to  the  original  subject  behind  this  long 
digression.  "But  you  were  telling  me  about  your 
father?" 

Adhering  strictly  to  his  personal  history,  it  did  not 
take  long  to  bring  it  up  to  that  most  momentous  of 
dates,  the  day  which  saw  their  meeting;  whereafter 
they  fell  naturally  to  the  exchange  of  first  impressions. 
Of  course,  he  said  that  he  had  thought  her  very  beau 
tiful;  of  course,  her  vigorous  denials  drew  him  on 
to  give  reasons  for  his  belief;  of  course,  her  opinions 
of  him  were  delivered  according  to  feminine  fashion, 
in  a  sort  of  acrostic  which  may  be  understood  either 
of  two  ways;  of  course,  it  would  appear  all  very 
ridiculous  to  the  young  person  who  rants,  raves,  or 
splits  hairs  through  the  six  hundred  pages  of  the  ad- 

304 


—  ITS   SEQUEL 

vanced  woman  novelist  with  the  manifest  intention 
of  showing  her  contempt  for  sex  relations.  Yet  was 
it  exceedingly  interesting  to  them,  and  it  did  differ 
in  its  termination  from  the  million  and  odd  incipient 
courtships. 

As  she  rose  to  move  on — Davy  had  taken  root  on 
his  boll — he  saw  her  shoe-lace  flapping  loosely,  and 
not  until  he  had  dropped  to  his  knees  did  he  realize 
that  an  ordinary  service  in  America  might  loom  as  a 
scandalous  proceeding  in  Mexico.  It  speaks  for  his 
wit  that,  if  quivering  with  apprehension,  he  boldly 
grasped  the  lacing;  as  much  for  hers  that  she  sub 
mitted  without  a  quiver  to  what  must  have  appeared 
in  her  experience  as  a  capital  operation;  and  if  he 
had  not  looked  up,  or  she  down,  the  business  would 
probably  have  come  to  the  traditional  conclusion. 
But  look  up  and  down  they  did,  and — great  is  Cupid, 
who  can  with  one  touch  transmute  a  dry  New-Eng- 
lander  into  a  poet — reading  one  implication  of  his 
position  from  her  glance  of  mischievous  intelligence, 
he  turned  jest  to  earnest  by  bowing  his  head. 

During  the  space  she  continued  to  look  down  upon 
him,  surprise  wiped  the  mischief  from  her  eyes  and 
then  gave  place  to  concern.  Once  her  two  hands 
went  out,  and  a  warm  flush  told  of  the  motherly  im 
pulse  to  take  the  bowed  head  to  her  breast.  But 
she  checked  in  time,  and  as  she  stood  biting  her  lips 
her  expression  plainly  ran:  "Consuela,  see  what  you 
have  done!" 

But  David  could  see  none  of  this.  A  sudden  re- 
305 


THE    PLANTER 

membrance  of  her  devotion  during  his  sickness,  the 
terrible  risks  she  had  run,  had  combined  under  the 
warm  spell  of  the  moment  to  prompt  his  action. 
Already  conscious  of  its  precipitancy,  he  waited  in  an 
agony  of  expectation  until,  after  what  seemed  a  very 
great  while,  she  spoke  with  gentle  pity. 

"No,  no,  amigo — not  yet." 

Through  an  immense  anger  at  himself,  he  felt  the 
delicacy  that  spared  him;  and  though  he  would 
fain  have  argued  the  point,  he  rose  at  once  and  led 
off  in  silence.  And  just  as  he  had  taken  the  rights 
of  the  position  it  now  fell  her  turn  for  private  study. 
While  he  stalked  ahead  she  took  note  of  the  frame, 
straightened  and  filled  out  with  useful  muscle,  his 
independent  carnage,  the  congregation  of  sunburned 
features  which  were  now  at  one  with  the  command 
ing  jaw — noting  all  from  the  new  view-point  of  a 
matrimonial  declaration,  and  not  unfavorably. 

Unaware  of  this  silent  measurement,  he  plunged 
along,  his  mind  revolving  around  various  plans  to 
bridge  the  chasm  between  them  and  the  old  friendly 
relation.  And  —  again  great  is  Cupid!  —  he  found 
means  in  a  simple  flower,  an  orchid  whose  dusky 
flame  burned  safe  from  the  winds  in  a  hollow  tree. 
Emblematic  of  love,  its  colors  sealed  his  recent  offer 
while  asking  for  its  pardon. 

And  she  took  it  in  that  spirit.  Her  smiling  mur 
mur,  "How  beautiful!"  as  she  touched  it  to  her  lips, 
referred  to  his  act  more  than  the  flower. 

"Yes,  Don  David's  taste  is  excellent." 
306 


—ITS   SEQUEL 

Both  jumped,  and  as  they  turned,  startled,  Patri 
cia  Hertzer  stepped  out  from  behind  a  tree.  "I  ar 
rived  just  after  you  left,"  she  said,  "and  have  been 
drumming  my  heels  on  the  veranda  ever  since.  You 
were  gone  so  long  that  Mrs.  Ewing  sent  me  out  with 
a  gentle  reminder  that  they  eat  at  least  once  a  day. 
I  meant  to  spring  out  on  you,  but — "  She  laughed, 
indicating  the  flower.  Then,  after  a  survey  of  David's 
confusion  from  under  lowered  lids,  she  added:  "It 
would  look  lovely  in  your  hair.  Let  Don  David  ar 
range  it — he  does  it  beautifully." 

Even  a  dull  girl  would  have  caught  the  significance, 
and  Consuela  missed  neither  David's  blush  nor  Pa 
tricia's  meaning  smile.  But  either  because  she  was 
too  fair  to  note  a  past  gallantry,  or  in  rebuke  of  that 
small  treachery,  she  bared  her  head. 

"If  he  will?" 

And  the  smile  which  accompanied  the  request  put 
him  in  such  heart  that  he  felt  equal  to  a  comment  as 
he  stepped  back  to  view  his  work.  "I'm  afraid  I've 
made  an  awful  bungle." 

"  Which  you  have,  brother."  But  as  Patricia  step 
ped  forward,  hands  raised,  Consuela  drew  back.  "  Gra- 
cias,  but  I  am  pleased!"  Nor  as  she  led  on  was  it 
possible  to  tell  from  her  expression  that  she  knew  the 
blossom  was  dangling  ungracefully  behind  her  ear. 

Following,  Patricia  left  David  to  bring  up  the  rear, 
a  position  which,  however  unwelcome,  forced  under 
his  notice  certain  subtle  changes  in  herself.  The  con 
trast  with  Consuela's  delicacy  most  undoubtedly  ac- 

307 


THE   PLANTER 

centuated  his  impression,  but,  allowing  for  that,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  she  had  gained  in  the  past  months 
toward  her  voluptuous  promise.  Though  still  shape 
ly,  the  threat  of  flesh  made  itself  evident  in  the  fuller 
lines  of  hips  and  shoulders.  When  she  looked  back 
to  laugh  her  smooth  throat  creased  under  the  chin. 
Her  face  appeared  broader,  mouth  more  vividly  scar 
let;  a  heavy  languor  deepened  her  amber  eyes. 

On  her  part  she  did  not  fail  to  catalogue  the  changes 
which  had  been  the  subject  of  Consuela's  recent 
study,  and  they  undoubtedly  added  a  fleshly  interest 
to  the  sheer  pleasure  she  took  in  tormenting  him. 
Crossing  a  single  log  that  bridged  a  narrow  arroyo, 
she  clung  to  his  hand  longer  than  was  necessary,  then 
jerked  away,  and  did  all  so  skilfully  that  he  felt  sure 
Consuela  must  think  the  lingering  originated  with 
him.  And  she  teased  him  unmercifully  —  spoke  of 
their  few  rides  together,  as  though  they  had  been  of 
daily  occurrence,  with  more  than  one  allusion  to  the 
attempted  rape  of  a  kiss. 

"Take  care,  chiquita,"  she  laughingly  cautioned 
Consuela,  "Don  David  is  a  caballero  muy  valiante — 
a  great  conqueror  of  ladies.  Only  by  flight  may  one 
attain  safety  from  his  advances." 

In  view  of  all  which  it  is  small  wonder  if  he  sighed 
his  relief  when  the  path  led  out  at  last  in  front  of 
the  house,  or  that,  even  at  a  distance,  his  harassed 
look  should  draw  a  comment  from  Ewing,  who  sat 
with  his  wife  on  the  veranda.  "Just  look  at  him, 
Nell!  Taking  his  pasear  between  the  two  prettiest 

308 


—ITS   SEQUEL 

girls  in  all  Mexico,  and  you  would  think  he  had  been 
to  a  funeral." 

"A  superfluity  of  beauty  is  sometimes  worse  than 
none,"  she  laughed.  "I'll  wager  Patricia  has  been 
at  her  tricks." 

He  nodded.  "  She  won't  tamely  submit  to  any 
poaching  on  what  she  considers  her  preserves.  But 
I  guess  a  little  interference  won't  hurt  Davy's  stock. 
Competition  is  the  life  of  love  as  much  as  trade." 

"What  a  beautiful  animal  it  is!"  she  continued,  in 
a  lower  tone,  as  the  three  drew  nearer.  "  And  what 
a  pity  she  is  white!  Why?  Well,  she  is  absolutely 
soulless — just  a  bundle  of  vanities  and  passions  done 
up  in  a  splendid  skin.  I  cannot  conceive  of  her  bring 
ing  content  to  any  white  man,  and  I  have  seen  Ind 
ians  for  whom  she  would  have  been  a  perfect  mate. 
But  white  she  is,  therefore  destined  to  make  some  one 
miserable." 

"Masculine  gender,  plural,"  he  corrected,  with  a 
low  laugh.  "  She's  handsome  enough  to  put  half  a 
dozen  to  the  bad  before  marriage — even  if  that  draws 
her  sting.  But  she'll  find  Davy's  shell  impervious. 
He  isn't  a  little  bit  flirtatious." 

"Which  won't  prevent  her  from  teasing  him  to 
death.  However,  I  shall  save  him  this  once  by 
placing  him  next  Consuela  at  table." 

"Umph!"  he  sniffed.  "Do  you  imagine  a  mere 
table  can  keep  her  off  her  prey.  She'll  go  over  it  at 
a  bound.  .  .  .  Hello!  you  folks,  actually  back?  Lunch 
is  an  hour  late,  and  the  cook  is  howling  for  blood." 

309 


THE    PLANTER 

"And  I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  him  alive,"  David 
laughed.  "Just  bring  him  on." 

Judging  by  the  general  performance  with  the  first 
course,  he  had  no  monopoly  of  that  best  of  sauces. 
Indeed,  conversation  languished  until  the  dessert  of 
sweet  lemons — shredded  Mexican  fashion  down  to  the 
separate  granules — was  well  advanced.  Busy  as  a 
healthy  appetite  kept  her,  however,  Patricia's  glance 
wandered  frequently  across  the  table,  and,  noting  its 
tentative  deviltry,  Ewing  yielded  to  an  impish  im 
pulse. 

"Where  did  you  find  them,  Patrick?" 

"  Where  did  I  find  them?"  Laying  down  her  spoon, 
she  leaned  on  her  elbows,  a  position  which  brought 
into  full  view  the  fine  curves  of  her  arms  and  shoul 
ders.  With  a  glance  of  bright  malice  at  David,  she 
went  on:  "Under  the  big  saber  in  a  most  romantic 
attitude.  Don  David  had  just  presented  a  flower, 
and  another  minute  would  have  seen  him  upon  his 
knees — the  Gringo  before  the  Greaser  ?  What  a  theme 
for  a  one-act  play!"  With  a  little  laugh  that  fell  hol 
lowly  on  a  sudden  silence,  she  returned  to  her  dessert. 

Through  acceptance  and  usage  by  the  Americans 
themselves,  the  word  "Gringo"  has  lost  its  original 
contempt  in  Mexico;  but  though  "Greaser"  has  no 
such  warrant,  her  skilful  coupling  of  the  terms  crip 
pled  open  resentment.  Inwardly  damning  himself 
for  his  mercurial  humor,  Ewing  first  tried  to  carry 
it  off  with  a  laugh,  then  damned  himself  for  laugh 
ing  as  he  noted  Consuela's  sudden  flush.  His  wife's 


—  ITS   SEQUEL 

"Patricia!  Patricia!"  was  better  taken.  But  it  re 
mained  for  David  to  save  the  day.  Without  looking 
he  was  conscious  of  the  pallor  which  drained  away 
the  flush,  and  the  tail  of  his  eyes  gave  him  her  eyes, 
wide  and  black  in  her  face's  whiteness.  His  own  ris 
ing  color  marked  the  leap  of  his  mind  to  a  purpose 
high  and  worthy  of  the  old  chivalry. 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  came  five  minutes  too  late." 

In  a  cold  moment  the  declaration  might  have 
seemed  absurd,  but  delivered  in  heat  under  a  generous 
impulse  to  offset  the  insult,  it  lacked  even  a  taint  of 
melodrama.  Mrs.  Ewing's  smile  of  quick  sympathy 
attested  her  admiration.  Her  husband,  who  pos 
sessed  in  full  the  usual  masculine  horror  of  heroics, 
mentally  ejaculated  a  "  Bravo,  Davy!"  Surprise  but 
no  laughter  mingled  with  the  spite  in  Patricia's  quick 
look. 

"What?  Really?"  she  asked.  "Then  let  me  be 
the  first  with  my  con — " 

"Thanks,"  he  dryly  interrupted.  "Only  I  can't 
use  them.  You  see,  she  refused  me." 

While  he  was  speaking  a  soft  suffusion  had  drowned 
out  Consuela's  pallor,  and  at  this  second  crucifixion 
of  self  before  her  altars,  she  gently  touched  his  arm. 
"No,  David.  I  said  'not  yet.'1' 

It  is  too  bad  that  the  age  of  dragons  and  giants  is 
past.  For  at  this,  her  first  use  of  his  name,  valiance 
swelled  within  him  so  that  nothing  but  the  doing  of 
some  great  emprise  could  have  reduced  it  to  livable 
proportions.  If  he  could  have  just  gone  out  and 

311 


THE    PLANTER 

slaughtered  a  giant!  Instead,  he  sat  very  silent,  and 
as  it  is  difficult  to  descend  again  to  the  commonplace 
from  exalted  moments,  it  was  Patricia's  laugh  that 
broke  a  glowing  pause. 

"  So  I  was  only  a  little  early,  after  all  ?  Then  please 
put  my  wishes  in  cold  storage  until  the  proper  time." 

She  had,  however,  too  large  a  share  in  her  father 
to  quietly  accept  defeat.  As  she  bent  once  more  to 
her  dessert,  the  amber  of  her  eyes  deepened  to  a  black 
sparkle  beneath  the  lowered  lids.  They  were  still 
ominously  dark  when  she  looked  up  again.  "By-the- 
way,  Senor  Mann,  what  has  become  of  Andrea?"  To 
Consuela  she  went  on  without  pause:  "You  know, 
Don  David's  housekeeper  is  the  most  beautiful  Te- 
huana  on  the  Isthmus."  Her  glance  flashed  back  to 
David.  "When  is  she  coming  back?  Or  did  you — 
tire  of  her?" 

Alluding  on  the  surface  to  Andrea's  service,  the 
question  lent  itself  so  readily  to  another  interpreta 
tion  that  Ewing  looked  up  quickly.  Real  or  assumed, 
her  expression  of  innocent  inquiry  baffled  his  scrutiny, 
and  as  his  glance  shifted  across  to  David  he  broke 
again  into  mental  ejaculations.  "What  the  dickens! 
Surely — why  doesn't  he  say  something?" 

He  could  not.  Having,  as  aforesaid,  measured  up 
his  dealings  with  Andrea  by  the  rigid  standard  of 
Christ  ("Whosoever  looketh  upon  a  woman  to  lust 
after  her  hath  already  committed  adultery  in  his 
heart") ,  he  could  only  sit  and  listen  to  the  tremendous 
scriptural  warning  ringing  through  the  chambers  of 

312 


—  ITS    SEQUEL 


his  brain:  "  Behold,  thy  sin  hath  found  thee  out!" 
Conscious  of  Patricia's  sly  triumph,  Ewing's  call  to 
speak,  the  wonder  dawning  in  the  face  of  the  girl  at 
his  side,  his  own  bursting  colors,  he  lived  agonies  in 
the  short  pause  before  Mrs.  Ewing  spoke. 

"She  was  a  daughter  of  David's  mandador  who 
died.  She  and  her  mother  deserted  them  in  their 
fever,  and  have  not  been  heard  of  since." 

With  enormous  relief  he  heard  Ewing's  proposal  to 
have  coffee  served  on  the  veranda,  and  her  rejoinder 
that  they  would  come  out  after  Patricia  had  seen  her 
lace.  He  felt  himself  moving  toward  the  door  like 
a  man  in  a  dream.  Came  a  second  spasm  of  relief  as 
Ewing  called  out:  "After  all,  I  don't  care  for  coffee. 
I  want  to  show  Davy  my  bananas,  and  we'll  just  have 
time  before  he  goes."  But  he  did  not  really  emerge 
from  his  trance  of  shame  till  they  were  well  away 
from  the  house. 

"Now,"  Ewing  then  said,  "tell  me  all  about  it." 

His  pleasant  friendliness  of  tone  and  manner  brought 
it  pouring  out  of  David  in  a  passion  of  misery — the 
temptations  which  had  dogged  him  waking  and  sleep 
ing  during  the  lonely  months  when  the  old  ideals 
seemed  to  have  been  drowned  out  by  the  rains,  and 
Andrea's  luxuriousness  loomed  always  behind  their 
wet  veil ;  when,  what  with  tire,  trouble,  and  disappoint 
ment,  life  had  resolved  into  a  question  of  physical 
pleasure.  And  Ewing  listened  with  quiet  sympathy 
— even  if  he  laughed  at  the  conclusion. 

"  My  goodness,  man,  if  you  cut  up  like  this  over  the 


THE    PLANTER 

things  you  haven't  done,  what  is  to  become  of  the  rest 
of  us?  Now,  look  here."  He  threw  an  affectionate 
arm  across  David's  shoulder.  "  I  don't  want  to  be 
little  your  personal  ideals — the  brand  is  too  scarce 
around  here.  Yet  I  do  believe,  to  reset  an  old  prov 
erb,  that  'One  touch  of  sin  makes  the  whole  world 
kin,'  and  you'll  be  none  the  worse  company  for  hav 
ing  felt  the  truth  of  it  in  your  own  person.  You 
were  inhuman  before,  Davy,  so  inhumanly  good  that 
we  had  to  strain  to  keep  up. 

"And  you  have  no  real  cause  for  contrition.  De 
sire  is  as  natural  as  hunger,  and  many  a  promising 
lad  has  delivered  himself  up  to  the  flesh  and  the 
devil  for  a  quarter  the  price  she  offered.  Candidly,  I 
thought  Andrea  would  bag  you  in  less  than  a  month. 
If  I  had  any  religious  beliefs,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
think  that  there  had  been  a  special  interposition  on 
your  behalf.  Having  none,  I  reserve  my  right  to 
criticise  a  Providence  which  is  said  to  damn  men  and 
women  for  the  exercise  of  passions  of  its  own  creation. 
Now  don't  run  away  with  the  idea  that  I  am  defend 
ing  license.  There's  a  reason  behind  moral  law — 
even  if  you  don't  find  it  in  Revelation.  To  all  ani 
mals  but  man  nature  has  appointed  their  seasons. 
He  alone  can  misuse  his  passions,  and  as  he  has  not 
advanced,  in  the  bulk,  to  the  point  where  he  can  dis 
tinguish  between  freedom  and  license,  society  does  it 
for  him.  'Behave,  confound  you,'  it  says,  'or  I  will 
send  you  to  Coventry  and  restrain  you  from  my  virt 
uous  daughters. '  And  it  will  continue  to  impose  a  prac- 


—  ITS    SEQUEL 

tical  if  uncomfortable  morality  until  the  millennium 
arrives  and  intelligence  balances  passion — at  least, 
that's  the  theory,  one  of  'em;  there  are  a  dozen  others, 
from  free-love,  which  would  send  us  all  to  wallow  in 
the  swine- troughs,  to  the  celibacy,  which  would  wipe 
out  race  and  problem  at  one  fell  whack.  But  I'm 
wandering.  Returning  to  the  point,  you  cannot  be 
blamed  for  feeling  desire,  and  ought  to  be  thankful 
to  have  escaped  on  any  terms.  And  now  for  a  scold 
ing:  Why  did  you  let  that  little  beast  bluff  you? 
Your  blush  would  have  damned  St.  Anthony." 

A  little  more  at  ease,  if  not  entirely  satisfied,  David 
had  now  room  to  regret  his  supersensitiveness.  "  I 
suppose  it  was  silly,"  he  groaned.  "But  I've  told 
you  how  I  looked  on  it — and  she  sprung  it  so  suddenly 
— and — when  a  fellow  is  in  love — you  know!" 

Ewing  looked  his  sympathy.  "  Yes,  it  brings  him 
a  bit  closer  to  the  angels  than  he  ever  was  before — or 
will  be  again.  I  used  to  lie  awake  at  nights  to  enu 
merate  my  sins,  and  they  kept  me  busy  counting.  But 
I've  lived  straight — since." 

They  walked  some  distance  in  silence  before  David 
asked:  "  Do  you  think  she  meant  it — that  way?" 

"  Patricia  ?  It  was  subtle  and  vicious  enough  to 
have  come  from  a  jealous  married  woman;  but  she 
has  hung  around  Hertzer's  cook-house  enough  to  have 
eaten  of  the  tree  of  knowledge.  I  wouldn't  put  it 
past  her." 

"  And  I  suppose  it  is  up  to  me  to  escort  her  home  ?" 
David  asked,  with  another  groan. 


THE    PLANTER 

"No,  she  came  by  canoe.  And,  by-the-way,  it 
wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  for  you  to  go  now.  I  should 
then  be  free  to  have  a  talk  with  Nell,  and  you  may 
depend  upon  her  to  settle  Miss  Patricia." 

David  agreeing,  they  walked  back  to  the  stables. 
"  Remember  that  you  are  to  come  early  on  Christmas 
Day,"  Ewing  said  as  he  mounted.  "  By  Jove,  that's 
the  day  after  to-morrow!  I'd  forgotten.  Phelps, 
Carrie,  and  a  couple  of  planters  from  the  next  river 
are  coming  with  their  wives,  and  we  expect  to  have 
no  end  of  a  time." 

Though  Ewing  intended  to  speak  to  his  wife  at 
once,  the  fuss  and  bustle  of  Christmas  preparation 
kept  her  so  busy  that  evening  fell  before  he  found  her 
alone  in  her  bedroom. 

"So  you  see,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "our  Davy 
has  a  germ  or  two  of  original  sin,  after  all,  in  his  stiff 
composition." 

"The  poor  boy!"  she  exclaimed.  Thoughtfully  she 
added:  "  But  one  might  have  known  it.  Good  works 
don't  come  out  of  cold  saints,  nor  generous  impulses 
proceed  from  anything  but  passion." 

"And  you'll  explain  to  Consuela?" 

"  Don't  need  to,  dearie.  She  came  to  me  all  aglow 
with  indignation  as  soon  as  Patricia  left.  She  didn't 
believe  it.  If  she  had,  I'm  sure  her  generous  anger  at 
the  treachery  would  have  made  her  overlook  it — not 
to  mention  his  consideration  for  her  at  the  table. 
Wasn't  he  great?" 


—ITS   SEQUEL 

"  Fine  boy,"  Ewing  agreed.  "  In  these  cynical  days 
it  takes  a  big  soul  to  do  a  thing  like  that — which  re 
minds  me,  did  you  scold  Patricia?" 

"Didn't  get  the  chance."  She  laughed  heartily  at 
the  remembrance.  "  It  was  positively  funny,  Frank. 
Just  as  soon  as  you  went  out  she  turned  to  Consuela 
and  said,  with  an  expression  of  most  beautiful  regret: 
'  You  must  think  me  very  rude,  but  you  know  I'm 
half  Mexican  myself  or  I  wouldn't  have  dared  to  call 
you  a  Greaser."1 

Ewing  burst  out  laughing.  "  She  isn't,  either. 
She's  Indian.  The  little  cat !  Hertzer  all  over.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  such  consummate  cheek  ?  And  Con 
suela?" 

"  Turned  her  down  with  a  quiet  '  No  importa, 
sefiorita.": 

"Ah,  ha!  There's  your  blood!  But  about  Davy, 
Nell  ?  It  would  be  too  bad  to  let  him  suffer  the  next 
two  days." 

"  Nor  shall  he.  Consuela  and  I  both  need  exercise. 
We'll  gallop  over  there  some  time  to-morrow." 


XIX 

THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

MORNING  brought  a  slight  change  in  Mrs.  Ew- 
ing's  plan.  "A  third  person  is  always  de  trop," 
she  said,  while  dressing.  "They  will  get  along  better 
without  me.  But  I  must  have  some  excuse  to  send 
Consuela  alone.  Let  me  see  .  .  .  Oh  yes,  we  need 
brandy  for  the  pudding.  I  saw  a  bottle  on  Davy's 
shelf;  and  don't  forget  that  you  haven't  a  drop  in 
stock  when  I  mention  it  at  breakfast." 

"Mightn't  she  feel  a  bit  embarrassed,"  Ewing 
doubted,  "after  yesterday?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "Too  honest.  I  never  knew 
a  girl  so  pellucidly  sincere.  False  shame  can  have 
no  part  in  her,  for  her  thoughts  are  clear  as  her  eyes 
and  her  actions  flow  out  from  her  feelings.  It  isn't 
the  transparency  of  simplicity,  either,  to  be  muddied 
by  a  sediment  of  knowledge.  A  good  brain  resides 
in  that  pretty  head." 

And  surely  it  takes  one  woman  to  read  another. 
Riding  through  the  jungle  a  couple  of  hours  later, 
the  girl's  expression  flickered  with  her  thought  be 
tween  the  extremes  of  humor  and  sadness,  but  lacked 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

even  a  taint  of  the  embarrassment  that  would  have 
been  natural  in  a  coarser  nature.  When,  issuing 
upon  the  Verda  clearing,  she  spied  David  on  the  op 
posite  trail,  her  call  rang  out  free  and  unconscious  as 
the  cry  of  a  bird. 

Clear,  high,  virginal  in  its  purity,  it  thrilled  David's 
distant  ears,  penetrating  several  strata  of  misery  which 
had  formed  over  his  feeling  during  the  night.  And 
though  —  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  the  brute  has, 
and  will  have,  its  proper  share  in  man  until  over- 
refinement  brings  death  to  the  race — he  had  assured 
himself  only  fifteen  seconds  ago  that  he  was  a  beast, 
unfit  to  look  in  her  face,  he  now  reined  his  horse  round 
on  strung  haunches  and  shot  across  the  clearing, 
taking  logs,  stumps,  and  a  wide  arroyo  in  his  stride. 

"Santa  Maria  Marissimi!"  she  gasped,  as  he  rode 
up.  "Such  madness!"  But  though  this  was  only 
the  beginning  of  a  scolding,  she  could  not  altogether 
repress  a  glint  of  admiration ;  he  would  have  doubled 
the  risk  for  half  her  smile. 

Accompanying  the  pressure  of  a  soft  hand,  the 
smile  conveyed  other  things,  sympathy  and  under 
standing,  and,  just  as  the  sun  licks  up  night  fogs,  its 
warmth  dissipated  his  miserable  clouds.  Shining 
through  a  joyful  suffusion,  his  answering  smile  may 
only  be  compared  to  the  luminary  bursting  at  dawn 
through  scarlet  mists;  and  with  these  silent  expres 
sions  of  trust  and  thanks,  yesterday  passed  harmless 
ly  out  of  their  lives. 

"So  anxious  to  be  rid  of  me?"     Her  eyes  danced 


THE    PLANTER 

under  arched  brows  when  he  said  that  he  would  get 
the  brandy  at  once.  "I  had  intended — but  no,  now 
I  shall  go  back." 

"No,  you  won't,"  he  contradicted,  with  boldness 
inspired  by  the  aforesaid  smile.  "I'm  going  to  hold 
you  to  your  contract.  How  can  you  help  me  if  you 
don't  know  the  place?  First,  we  shall  ride  around 
and  look  at  the  improvements — which  will  take  until 
lunch.  Afterward,  you  are  to  inspect  the  buildings 
and  advise  me  on  my  plans.  Lastly,  I  shall  see  you 
home?" 

Delivered  with  a  rising  inflection,  his  Spanish  sen 
tences  were  transmuted  from  commands  to  requests, 
a  subtlety  which  earned  him  a  glance  of  soft  approval. 
"Very  well,  senor,"  she  laughingly  acceded.  "Lead 
on." 

He  in  the  lead,  they  came  in  five  minutes  to  the 
new  fence  where  they  caught,  down  long  vistas  of 
silver  trunks,  flashes  of  red  and  white — the  cattle 
peacefully  grazing.  Yesterday  their  census  had  been 
increased  by  one  small  stranger  which  stood  with  its 
mother  close  to  the  bars.  Its  fawn  muzzle,  mild  eyes, 
ineffectual  knees  instantly  drew  Consuela's  sympa 
thies;  nor  would  she  consent  to  move  on  till  she  had 
watched  with  tender  curiosity  its  boisterous  assault 
upon  the  patient  mother. 

A  longer  ride  put  them  into  Tadeo's  nurseries, 
where  a  checker  of  golden  light  was  already  rifting 
through  the  thinned  woods  upon  a  wild  confusion 
of  stumps,  branches,  felled  trees;  and  here  it  was  that 

320 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS   OUT 

Mrs.  Ewing's  judgment  of  Consuela's  wit  was  proved 
by  a  bit  of  wise  counsel.  Tadeo,  who  with  Maria 
and  Seraphine  was  rapidly  trimming  the  tangle,  left 
his  labors  as  they  approached  to  unburden  himself 
of  a  plan.  In  Ciudad  Mexico,  it  seemed,  two  brothers 
and  several  cousins,  all  men  of  family,  were  wasting 
for  an  opportunity  to  enter  the  beneficent  service  of 
the  Senor  Don  David  Mann.  Railroad  fares,  with  a 
few  odd  pesos  thrown  in  for  expenses,  would  assuredly 
bring  them  down,  and  if  he,  Don  David,  would  intrust 
him,  Tadeo,  with  the  necessary  moneys —  While 
with  multitudinous  bows  and  scrapings  he  thus  deliv 
ered  himself,  Consuela  had  listened  quietly,  but  here 
she  interposed  a  quick  objection  in  English. 

"No,  senor,  he  would  never  return."  Reading 
David's  disappointment,  she  ran  on:  "What  would 
you?  It  is  not  that  he  is  insincere  or  dislikes  your 
service,  but  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  these  are 
children,  to  be  guided  away  from  temptation.  He 
is  a  peon,  therefore  changeable,  irresolute,  well- 
meaning,  but  variable  as  water  under  a  wind.  His 
familia  ?  That  would  not  hold  him,  for  they  are  easy 
to  come  by  on  the  plateau.  Give  him  a  hundred 
pesos,  and  you  will  never  see  him  again.  But,  see, 
this  does  not  mean  that  you  shall  reject  his  plan. 
You  can  take  the  names  and  addresses  to-night,  and 
I  shall  forward  them  with  the  money  to  my  mother, 
who  will  find  and  send  them  down  under  care  of  a 
cabo." 

"Bully!"  he  exclaimed,  brightening.  "Bully  plan!" 
321 


THE    PLANTER 

"'Bull-ee?'"  she  repeated.  "I  must  see  what  is 
that!"  And,  much  amused,  he  looked  on  while  she 
pulled  a  vest-pocket  dictionary  out  of  her  white  blouse. 
'"Bull-ee — One  who  abuses,  torments,  or  otherwise 
persecutes  his  fellow.*  Then  it  is  that  I — " 

It  was  hard  to  maintain  his  gravity  in  the  face  of 
her  quizzical  wonder,  still  he  managed  to  nod  without 
smiling. 

"How,  senor?" 

"By  refusing  to  marry  me." 

Her  laughter  was  proportioned  by  her  previous 
mystification,  and  her  answer  came  out  of  a  smile. 
"But  I  did  not." 

"Then  you  will?"  he  eagerly  asked. 

Head  slanted,  eyes  very  merry  under  considering 
brows,  she  measured  him  teasingly  before  making 
provoking  answer.  "Who  knows?" 

"  Consuela — "  he  began,  pleadingly.  Then — perhaps 
because  she  found  it  hard  to  deny  his  honest  eyes — 
she  whirled  her  beast,  and  though  he  instantly  drove 
in  the  spurs,  he  gained  for  the  next  five  minutes  only 
a  view  of  the  supple  back,  lithe  figure  undulating  to 
their  mad  gallop.  Through  the  woods  and  far  out 
on  the  open  she  headed  him,  nor  paused  until  a  sud 
den  turn  brought  them  upon  Magdaleno  and  his  men. 
Then  reining  in,  she  looked  back  with  something  of 
the  triumph  and  invitation  which  mix  in  the  gaze  of 
a  doe  that  has  outraced  its  pursuing  mate. 

"And  you  scolded  me!"  he  gasped,  coming  up. 
"What  kind  of  a  pace  do  you  call  that?" 

322 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

"But  this  was  on  a  path,"  she  innocently  returned. 

Reading  his  own  interpretation  from  the  race, 
Magdaleno  had  bristled  like  some  old  brown  hound; 
but  at  her  laugh  his  hand  dropped  from  his  pistol- 
butt  while  he  muttered  in  his  throat:  "Old  fool!  He 
is  not  of  that  sort."  And  like  a  faithful  hound  he 
stood,  eyes  fixed  on  his  young  mistress  all  the  time 
she  enthused  over  David's  young  rubber. 

"Si,"  she  agreed.  "Only  the  other  night  it  is  that 
Jose',  the  mandador  of  Serior  Phelps,  tells  it  to  me 
that  La  Luna  itself  cannot  show  a  finer  stand.  It  is 
two  years'  growth  in  a  single  season." 

"And  not  a  man  sick  in  the  galera,"  David  proudly 
added.  "Last  year  I  had  to  do  the  best  I  could  with 
Meagher's  leavings.  But  with  this  clean  start  I  hope 
to  bring  these  fellows  safely  through  the  heat  and 
rains.  Hello!  What  is  it?" 

A  man  had  detached  himself  from  the  line  and 
stood,  sombrero  in  hand,  a  few  paces  away.  "Only 
to  speak  with  the  senorita,"  he  answered,  bowing  and 
scraping.  "That  she  may  send  the  word  to  la  senora 
in  Ciudad  Mexico — it  is  a  good  service." 

Looking  at  Consuela,  David  saw  the  warm  tide 
flood  her  face  and  neck  as  she  answered:  "And  that 
will  I.  Isidro  Labre,  is  it  not?" 

As,  bobbing  assent,  the  fellow  retired,  a  second 
came  forward,  then  a  third,  fourth — indeed,  her  pas 
sage  down  the  line,  which  paralleled  the  path,  re 
solved  into  a  function,  for  no  one  of  the  simple  chil 
dren  would  miss  the  smile  that  had  paid  the  first  for 

323 


THE    PLANTER 

his  thanks.  To  his  respects,  the  last  added  a  request 
spoken  so  rapidly  that  David  understood  only  a  ref 
erence  to  a  letter. 

He  caught  Consuela's  low  question:  "What  is  her 
name?"  And  she  explained  as  they  rode  on:  "I  am 
to  write  to  his  sweetheart,  for  it  is  that  Benito,  who 
writes  for  those  who  cannot,  is  given  to  rude  jesting 
and  might  offend  the  girl." 

"But  what  will  you  say?"  he  asked,  amused  and 
puzzled. 

"What  I  would  say  if — I  were  in  love  myself,"  she 
answered,  with  grave  hesitation. 

"Oh,  of  course!"  he  concurred,  a  little  dashed,  for 
she  was  riding  ahead  again  and  he  could  not  see  her 
smile.  But  the  afterglow  from  that  exhibition  was 
too  strong  to  be  cooled  by  momentary  pique,  and  pres 
ently  he  broke  out:  "Wasn't  it  fine  to  have  them  do 
that?" 

"Especially  for  me."  Her  voice  trembled,  and, 
glancing  quickly  as  she  looked  back,  he  saw  to  his 
surprise  that  the  light  had  died  from  her  face.  With 
a  slight  shudder  she  went  on:  "At  Las  Glorias  are 
some  who  came  through  our  galera,  and  their  looks 
as  I  passed  them  in  the  field  this  morning!  .  .  .  And 
their  servitude  is  kind  beside  that  of  the  thousands 
we  sold  into  the  tobacco  slavery  of  theValle  Nacional." 

"Oh,  come,  come!"  he  remonstrated,  pained  by  her 
pain.  "You,  at  least,  were  innocent.  It  cannot  be 
charged  against  you." 

"'The  sins  of  the  father  shall  be  visited  upon  the 
324 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

children  even  to  the  fourth  generation,'"  she  quoted. 
"When  I  used  to  hear  the  priest  read  that  gospel  at 
the  convent,  I  never  dreamed  it  could  apply  to  me." 

Young  as  he  was,  David  had  yet  lived  long  enough 
to  note  the  swing  and  scope  of  that  iron  law,  to  see 
the  drunkenness,  incapacity,  immorality  of  parents 
react  upon  innocent  children  and  ruin  their  every 
chance  in  life.  Moreover,  he  had  recognized  its  use 
in  the  economy  of  nature  to  cut  the  weak  and  vicious 
from  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  neither  philos 
ophy,  Scripture,  nor  his  own  feeling  would  permit 
him  to  bring  a  step-child  within  its  scope. 

She  took,  however,  little  comfort  from  the  sugges 
tion.  "But  to  think,  senor,  that  my  very  flesh  is  a 
product  of  that  slavery!  If  I  could  only  tear  it  from 
my  bones — like  the  clothing  earned  by  that  shame!" 

She  had  turned  again,  but  he  could  see  her  shoulders 
shaking,  and  the  pain  of  that  silent  distress  enabled 
him  to  rise  to  a  sudden  inspiration.  "Oh,  I  know!" 
And  as  she  gave  him  dark,  humid  eyes.  "Give  it  to 
me?" 

At  first  she  looked  surprised,  then  angry,  but  this 
faded  as  she  caught  the  sympathy  behind  his  smile. 
Obliged  to  return  it,  she  asked,  with  a  touch  of  pathos: 
"What  would  you  do  with  it — my  poor  flesh?" 

"'Protect,  care  for  it,  cherish  it  till  death  did  us 
two  part.'"  He  paraphrased  on  the  simple  language 
of  the  Episcopalian  service. 

"I  believe  you  would."  She  thrust  out  an  im 
pulsive  hand,  adding,  as  he  rode  forward  to  take  it: 

325 


THE    PLANTER 

"We  are  going  to  be  good  friends,  Senor  Mann." 
And  though  the  "friends"  was  hardly  to  his  liking, 
he  had  to  let  it  go,  for  just  then  they  rode  in  among 
the  buildings. 

"Oh,  look  at  the  niftas!"  she  exclaimed,  passing  the 
compound  which  now  enclosed  the  married  quarters; 
and  as  soon  as  the  stable  moso  had  taken  her  horse, 
she  swept  down  like  a  mother  hen  upon  the  dozen  tots 
who  ran  or  rolled  in  the  sunlit  dust.  Of  them  all, 
only  three  small  girls  could  boast  a  single  chemisette. 
But  though  these  honorable  attempts  toward  clothing 
had  shrunk  through  repeated  washings  to  the  dimen 
sions  of  a  generous  collarette,  she  gathered  in  as  many 
as  both  arms  would  hold,  and  sat  down  to  fondle  them 
on  Tadeo's  doorstep. 

Standing  above  her.  David  looked  smilingly  on. 
At  home  he  had  often  seen  young  girls  make  much 
of  children — sometimes  with  an  eye  upon  masculine 
watchers — but  nothing  to  equal  her  complete  aban 
donment.  Her  remark,  made  without  looking  up,  "I 
love  children,"  was  purely  unconscious,  and,  making 
it,  her  lips  trembled  with  the  passion  of  tenderness 
that  glowed  in  her  big  brown  eyes.  The  drooping 
figure,  yearning  of  the  head  forward  upon  the  slender 
neck,  expressed  that  dominant  maternity  than  which 
nothing  more  powerfully  affects  a  man. 

"If  I  could  do  something  for  these,"  she  said,  a 
little  mournfully,  "I  might  then  forget." 

"So  you  can,"  he  began.     "After  awhile — " 

But  just  then  she  sprang  up,  scattering  her  small 
326 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS   OUT 

brood.  "Viva!  Viva!  I  have  it!  La  escuela!  A 
school!  I  shall  gather  them  in  your  jacale!  Teach 
them  to  read,  write,  and  sew!  Come,  let  us  speak 
to  the  mothers!" 

It  was  hardly  necessary;  David's  command  would 
have  been  sufficient.  But,  infected  by  her  enthusi 
asm,  he  followed  from  hut  to  hut,  and  listened,  smiling, 
while  each  brown  mother  declaimed  that  her  particu 
lar  bratlings  were  not  even  worthy  of  the  senorita's 
notice.  Nevertheless,  they  were  pleased  as  she,  and, 
leaving  them  to  mutual  felicitations  upon  the  lustres 
that  education  would  presently  confer  upon  their  re 
spective  households,  David  led  her  away  to  lunch. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  she  did  not  fare  very  well. 
How  could  one  eat  when  plans  of  such  magnificence 
were  toward?  She  would  do  this,  that,  the  other! 
She  prattled  until  the  very  beans  and  tortillas  ac 
quired  an  academic  flavor.  Indeed,  her  plans  for  the 
mental  uplift  of  his  people  ran  as  far  into  the  years 
as  his  for  their  social  welfare,  and  were  closely  inter 
woven. 

"For,  you  see,  sefior,"  she  said,  at  the  end  of  the 
meal,  "you  will  need  administradores,  storekeepers, 
clerks  to  care  for  your  growing  trade.  Did  you  no 
tice  Tadeo's  Anita,  the  sharp  little  face  ?  She  is  to  be 
my  prize  scholar,  and  will  keep  your  books  when — " 

"We  are  married,"  he  quietly  finished,  not  sorry 
for  the  opportunity  to  give  her  chatter  a  personal 
twist. 

" — I  am  too  old  for  work,  and  so  ugly  that  I  frighten 
327 


THE    PLANTER 

the  trade  away,"  she  made  her  own  finish,  demurely 
dimpling. 

"You?  Pouf!"  He  blew  the  very  idea  into  thin 
air.  Then,  while  she  listened,  head  daintily  inclined, 
he  sketched  her  as  an  old  lady — eyes  of  deep  brown 
looking  out  from  under  snowy  hair — 

"Wrinkles,"  she  supplied,  drawing  them  in  with  a 
slim  finger. 

"No.  The  face  reflects  the  spirit — yours  will  al 
ways  be  young.  Figure  just — " 

"I  shall  be  fat,  a  horror." 

"Couldn't  if  you  tried — too  nervous." 

"Don't  make  me  thin,"  she  pleaded.  "Thin  ones 
are  always  sour." 

"Comfortably  plump,"  he  went  on.  "Just  a  nice, 
sweet  old  lady  whose  sons  will  tell  her  that  she  is 
more  beautiful  than  their  sweethearts." 

"Sons?     But,  sefior,  I  am  to  be  an  old  maid." 

"The  idea!"  he  sneered. 

"I  am  twenty-two,  and  in  Mexico  girls  marry  at 
sixteen.  Already  some  of  my  school-mates  have  great 
nifias.  I  am  pasado." 

"Pasado,  indeed!     You  are  going  to  marry  me." 

Laughing  at  his  calm  confidence,  she  mimicked 
Patricia  with  a  perfection  of  tone  and  accent  that 
surprised  while  it  filled  him  with  chagrin.  "'Don 
David  is  a  caballero  muy  valiante.  Only  by  flight 
may  one  gain  safety  from  his  advances.'  Senor,  you 
have  convinced  me  of  her  truth.  Bring  out  my 
horse." 

328 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

Her  dimples,  which  had  come  and  gone  like  rain 
drops  on  a  silent  pool,  had  faded,  and  he  needed  to 
look  closely  to  see  the  mischief  peeping  from  under 
lowered  lashes.  "  Spare  me — "  he  began ;  but  stopped 
as  her  glance  went  by  him  to  the  Yaqui,  who  had 
silently  approached  the  door. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  him;  and  while 
he  busied  himself  untying  a  bundle  he  carried  under 
his  arm,  she  looked  eagerly  on.  Though  it  was  only 
a  week  since  he  had  left  his  bed,  rest  and  the  open 
had  recolored  his  bronze,  set  the  black  sparkle  again 
in  his  eye.  As  he  stooped  to  spread  a  jaguar-skin 
over  the  sill,  joints  and  muscles  fell  and  flowed  with 
the  old,  flexuous  ease.  When  he  rose,  her  eyes  paid 
tribute  to  his  bulk,  which,  stripped  as  it  was  of  su 
perfluous  flesh,  still  filled  the  doorway. 

"What  a  peach  of  a  skin!"  David  exclaimed. 

Stepping  back,  the  Yaqui  allowed  a  band  of  sun 
light  to  fall  upon  it.  Six  feet  from  snout  to  tail-tip, 
its  vivid  spots  burned  amid  the  tawny  fires  of  back 
and  belly,  which  lit  the  doorway  with  a  resplendent 
glow.  Murmuring  a  "Magnified"  Consuela  joined 
David,  who  was  upon  his  knees  before  it,  and  ran 
her  hand  with  childish  delight  over  and  through  the 
fur. 

"I  wonder  where  he  got  it?"  she  said,  after  a  min 
ute  of  admiring  comment.  "Why — he's  gone!" 

"To  the  cook-house,"  he  said,  glancing  outside. 
"He's  always  like  that:  comes  and  goes  without  a 
word.  Magdaleno  seems  to  be  the  only  person  with 

329 


THE    PLANTER 

whom  he  will  talk.  It  was  from  him  that  he  learned 
I  was  crazy  for  trophies,  so  now  he  brings  me  some 
thing  every  day.  Yesterday  it  was  a  twelve-foot 
'gator;  day  before,  the  biggest  python  I  ever  saw. 
I'll  have  enough  to  stock  a  museum  in  a  couple  of 
weeks." 

"Two  weeks?"  She  raised  her  brows.  ''Then  you 
think  that  Senor  Hertzer  will  not — " 

He  shrugged.     "Quien  sabe?" 

"If  he  doesn't?" 

"Now  you've  got  me."  He  shrugged  again  help 
lessly.  "Of  course,  I  can't  keep  him  here;  sooner  or 
later  Hertzer  would  get  him.  If  I  turn  him  loose  he 
certainly  can't  walk  back  to  his  own  people  through 
two  thousand  miles  of  hostile  country.  I  did  plan 
to  smuggle  him  down-river  to  the  Gulf,  only  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  could  adapt  himself  to  an  em 
ployment.  Any  way  you  look  at  it,  his  future  is  a 
puzzle." 

Had  he  known  it,  the  first  cause  in  a  sequence  that 
would  bring  the  solution  was  even  then  on  the  plan 
tation;  would  appear  as  soon  as  Carruthers  had  seen 
the  stable  moso  give  his  hungry  beast  a  feed  of  maize. 
"What  a  beauty!"  he  commented,  stepping  over  the 
skin  five  minutes  later.  "Your  bag,  Davy?  The 
Yaqui,  eh  ?  He's  proving  worth  while."  After  greet 
ings  were  over,  he  went  on,  with  a  doubtful  glance 
at  Consuela:  "By -the -way,  it's  he  I  want  to  see 
you  about — if  Miss  Morales  will  excuse  us  a  minute? 
She  knows  everything?  In  that  case  I'll  sit  down 

330 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS   OUT 

and  eat  as  I  talk,  for  I've  ridden  six  hours  on  cold 
tortillas  and  coffee." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  David  contradicted.  "  Open  your 
mouth,  except  to  put  grub  in  it,  for  the  next  twenty 
minutes,  and  I'll  throw  something  at  you."  And  it 
must  be  conceded  that  the  planter  found  little  diffi 
culty  in  obeying. 

"It  is  legitimate,"  he  said,  when  David  commented 
on  his  tired  look  as  he  shoved  back  from  the  table. 
"Night  before  last  I  played  poker  with  Hertzer  and 
the  Jefe-Politico  in  San  Juan  till  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning — caught  the  old  rip  cheating,  by-the-way: 
filled  a  lovely  hand  from  the  discards.  Yesterday  I 
rode  all  day,  and,  not  to  mention  this  morning,  I 
must  make  back  home  before  Hertzer  passes  on  his 
way  up  to-night. 

"It  isn't  that  I  am  afraid  of  him,"  he  answered 
David's  look.  "But  so  long  as  we  have  to  do  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  neighboring,  what  he  doesn't  know 
won't  hurt  him.  He  means  mischief,  Davy,  for  two 
of  the  Jefe's  rurales  are  coming  up  with  him,  and 
you'll  have  them  here  sure  to-morrow.  However, 
there's  still  time  for  a  checkmate  if  you  chuck  his 
man  into  a  canoe  and  rustle  him  down  to  La  Luna 
before  they  arrive."  He  added:  "It's  simple  as  pie." 

"Simple  enough,  Carrie."  Looking  from  one  to 
the  other,  Consuela  saw  David's  expression  settle  into 
a  familiar  obstinacy  that  would  have  been  mulish  but 
for  its  rightful  purpose.  "I'm  awfully  obliged  for 
your  trouble,  but — I  can't  do  it." 


THE    PLANTER 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  Carruthers  protested.  "Do  be 
sensible.  Ewing  told  me  how  you  felt  about  it  when 
he  passed  the  other  day,  but — " 

"Did  he  tell  you  the  man's  story?" 

"Yes,  and  it's  tough.  Still,  when  all's  said,  Davy, 
he's  only  an  Indian,  and  if  he  persists  in  bucking  a 
losing  game  I  don't  see  why  you  should  take  it  on 
yourself  to  pay  his  losses." 

"And  I  wouldn't  if  he  had  wilfully  taken  it  up  with 
fate.  But  when  he  was  forced  in,  compelled  to  throw 
with  loaded  dice,  I  can't  see  my  way  to  give  him  up." 

"But,  man,  you  have  duties — to  yourself,  the  plan 
tation!" 

"To  follow  the  right  as  nearly  as  I  can." 

" But  what's  the  use?"  Carruthers  fumed  and  fret 
ted.  "With  or  without  your  leave,  they'll  get  him, 
only  without  it  you  yourself  will  be  landed  in  San 
Juan  jail.  Ugh!" 

Had  David  known  nothing  of  the  filth  and  fleas  of 
the  Jefe's  carcel,  Carruthers'  expression  of  disgust 
would  have  been  sufficiently  enlightening.  The  tail 
of  his  eye  gave  him  Consuela's  sympathetic  shudder, 
and  a  glance  showed  her  leaning  forward,  lips  slightly 
parted,  expectant,  apprehensive.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  him,  but  he  could  not  read  their  eloquent  glow. 
Still,  neither  the  doubt  nor  the  squalid  prospect  could 
shake  his  resolution. 

"As  you  say,"  he  began,  slowly,  "I  may  go  to  jail, 
but  it  doesn't  follow  that  they'll  capture  him.  Over 
a  week  ago  I  spoke  to — " 

332 


THE   BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

Carruthers  jumped,  hand  out-stretched.  "No,  no; 
don't  tell  me!  I  might  be  tempted  to  protect  you 
against  yourself.  And  now  I'll  have  to  go."  Turn 
ing  to  shake  hands  with  Consuela,  he  finished:  "Now 
it  is  your  turn.  I  leave  him  to  you." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  as  David  went  out  with  him,  "it 
is  my  turn." 

Something  peculiar  in  her  accent  stuck  in  David's 
consciousness,  but  he  did  not  understand  until,  on 
his  return,  he  saw  her  glowing  face.  Then  its  sym 
pathy,  faith,  encouragement  filled  him  with  shame 
for  the  hesitation  that  had  caused  him  to  pace  a  few 
turns  before  coming  back  in. 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

"There's  only  one  thing — the  river." 

Taking  some  Mexican  bank-notes  from  his  trunk, 
he  called  the  Yaqui,  who,  as  before,  stood  in  si 
lence  while  he  explained  the  new  turn  in  the  situa 
tion.  "So  thou  seest,"  he  finished,  "there  is  no 
longer  safe  harborage  here.  Take,  then,  these  notes 
to  Don  Julian,  the  ranchero  in  the  Zacateco  village 
over  the  ford,  and  he  will  furnish  a  canoe  with  which 
thou  mayest  gain  down-river  to  the  coastwise  cities 
where  employments  be  many." 

The  jaguar-skin  still  blazed  in  the  doorway,  and 
as  the  man  studied  it  all  the  time  he  was  talking, 
David  could  not  see  the  sudden  change  which  centred 
on  his  eyes.  Now  looking  up,  his  face  was  blank.  His 
thanks  and  adios,  as  he  took  the  notes  and  walked 
away,  were  so  wooden,  flatly  stolid,  that  David  winced. 

333 


THE    PLANTER 

Heavily  disappointed,  he  stood  looking  after  till  a  gen 
tle  hand  pulled  his  arm. 

"Nevermind.     You  did  your  part." 
^    She  was  standing  very  close,  and,  turning  quickly, 
he  saw  himself,  as  on  that  other  day,  trembling  amid 
brown  liquid  lights;  and  this  time  she  allowed  his 
hurt  to  heal  before  she  wiped  him  out. 

"Oh,  well."  He  laughed  as  she  did  it.  "Now  for 
the  consequences.  Put  on  your  hat.  I  must  go  over 
at  once  and  make  arrangements  with  Frank  to  look 
after  the  place  if  Hertzer  spirits  me  away." 

The  hands  that  had  reached  up  to  the  pins  dropped 
again  to  her  side.  "Oh  no,  I  shall  do  that — come 
over  and  live  here  till  you  return."  Flushing,  she 
ran  eagerly  on:  "And  that  will  not  be  long.  See  you, 
I  shall  write  to  my  uncle,  who  is  judge  in  Mexico  city, 
to  speak  with  Diaz;  for  though  the  Presidente  is  in 
flexible  in  purpose,  and  has  done  great  wickedness, 
it  was  always  to  obtain  a  greater  good.  If  he  but 
know,  not  only  will  he  succor  thee,  but  also  put  out 
his  strong  hand  to  stay  the  waste  of  life  on  the  plan 
tations."  All  in  a  glow,  she  finished:  "And  if  it  be 
that  you  do  go  to  the  carcel,  when  you  return — per 
haps—I  will." 

It  came  so  suddenly  that  he  just  stood  and  stared. 
Then,  as  his  face  lit  up,  she  stepped  back  from  his 
reaching  hands,  the  old  mischief  leaping  in  the  warmth 
of  her  eyes.  "The  carcel — first,"  she  warned. 

"To-morrow!"  he  exclaimed,  happily,  the  first  man 
who  was  ever  made  drunk  by  the  prospect  of  prison. 

334 


THE    BREAD    FLOATS    OUT 

She  was  now  tiptoeing  to  his  glass,  and  she  glanced 
sidewise  under  the  arm  that  was  raised  to  her  hat. 
"What  if  I  leave  you  there?" 

"You  won't.     And  don't  forget — you  promised." 

"I  said — perhaps." 

But  he  was  content,  for  she  gave  him  her  hand  as 
they  went  out;  nor  took  it  back  until  both  his  were 
required  to  lift  her  to  the  saddle.  The  happiest  man 
in  the  two  Americas  rode  with  her  into  the  jungle. 

A  little  less  absorbed,  and  David  might  have 
glimpsed  the  Yaqui  as  they  passed  the  store  on  their 
way  to  the  stable.  Instead  of  going  down  to  the 
river-path  to  the  ford,  he  had  turned  around  the 
buildings  on  to  the  plantation  road,  and  just  as  David 
and  Consuela  rode  out  of  the  clearing  at  one  end,  he 
paused  to  speak  with  Magdaleno  at  the  other.  He 
did  not  stop  long,  perhaps  less  than  a  minute;  but 
all  the  while  the  mandador's  tongue  clucked  sympa 
thetic  commiseration,  and  when  he  moved  on,  Mag 
daleno  looked  after,  shaking  his  head. 

From  Verda  to  the  arroyo  where  David  had  spent 
the  night  was  an  easy  hour  for  a  horse,  but  water  still 
lay  in  the  morasses.  What  with  many  detours,  the 
sun  was  in  the  tree-tops  before  the  Yaqui  plunged 
down  the  bank  and  turned  in  under  the  leafy  tunnel. 
It  sank  as  he  climbed  out,  an  hour  later,  to  the 
lonely  grave  in  the  glade. 

Save  that  the  kindly  rains  had  spread  it  with  a 
counterpane  of  flowers,  all  remained  unchanged. 

335 


THE    PLANTER 

From  its  circumference  heavy  foliage  arched  up,  a 
great  veined  roof,  to  the  apex  where  light  drifted  like 
a  thin  mist  down  through  the  dead  saber.  Falling 
lengthways  of  the  grave,  one  huge  limb  had  lent  its 
decay  to  the  profusion  of  orchids,  white,  waxen 
blooms  that  loomed  in  the  dusk  like  ghosts  of  flowers. 
Rising  out  of  a  green  confusion  of  blossoming  creep 
ers,  they  wreathed  the  grave  of  the  dead  slave  girl 
with  magnificence  of  florage  beyond  the  reach  of  an 
emperor;  and  as,  throwing  his  zarape  shawl- wise  over 
his  head,  the  Yaqui  sank  in  a  huddled  heap,  the  glade 
might  have  been  some  dim  chapel,  himself  a  cowled 
figure  of  grief  at  the  foot  of  a  queenly  sarcophagus. 
For  he  remained  stiller  than  marble  while  the  mist 
of  light  faded;  did  not  move  when  night  blotted  out 
its  pallor;  had  not  when,  hours  later,  the  moon  slid 
down  a  pale  finger  through  the  saber.  He  took  no 
note  of  a  sudden  stir  of  night  life,  whisper  of  leaves, 
rheumatic  complaint  of  trees,  movement  of  silent 
creatures  in  the  black  darkness  outside  his  blanket; 
for,  under  it,  great  Sonoma  deserts  blazed  like  heat 
ed  brass  within  the  environing  purple  of  mountains. 
He  saw  again  the  blue  gulf  of  the  Barranca  de  Cobre 
flame  into  rainbow  color  at  the  touch  of  the  morning 
sun;  once  more  his  camp-fire  flared  among  the  carven 
rocks;  beyond  that  a  brighter  glare,  the  flames  of  a 
hundred  villages.  Within  those  sun-bright  limits  he 
made  again  the  pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  Bocaina 
with  her  who  lay  beneath.  While  the  barbaric  Ind 
ian  fifes,  flat  thud  of  drums,  mingled  with  the  thud 

336 


THE   BREAD    FLOATS   OUT 

of  the  great  church  organ,  they  marched  on  bleeding 
knees  across  the  sharp  stones  of  the  square,  up  the 
steps,  the  long  length  of  the  dim  shrine  to  the  feet  of 
the  bleeding  Christ,  the  God  whom  alone  they  had 
accepted  of  the  Spaniards.  On  dusk  richly  lit  by  the 
glare  of  cooking-fires  floated  the  laughter  of  young  girls 
grinding  corn  at  the  metates,  wild  and  sweet  as  the 
cooing  of  pigeons,  and  he  felt  again  the  happy  unease 
of  the  wooing  before  the  peace  of  marriage.  Through 
the  long  night  he  lived  it  over  and  over — the  hunting, 
fighting,  loving — always  to  the  same  end:  the  gloom 
of  Hertzer's  galera. 

Its  fetor  was  strong  in  his  nostrils  when  at  dawn 
he  rose  and  cast  awav  his  blanket. 


XX 

A    CHECK,    AND 

COMING  home  late,  David  rose  early  Christmas 
morning — so  early,  indeed,  that  he  had  almost 
finished  writing  out  a  schedule  of  instructions  for  Con- 
suela's  guidance  when  dawn  transmuted  the  golden 
glow  of  his  lamp  into  a  smoky  pallor. 

"Why  not  do  it  here?"  Ewing  had  argued  the  pre 
ceding  evening.  "  Hertzer  will  never  dare  to  take 
you  out  of  the  midst  of  his  friends  and  neighbors. 
Stay  all  night  and  make  sure  of  your  Christmas." 
But  as  his  presence  was  necessary  at  the  inauguration 
of  certain  festivities  for  his  people,  he  had  refused — a 
decision  which  he  had  almost  regretted  stepping  out 
side  an  hour  ago. 

A  breeze  had  then  moaned  out  in  the  jungle,  and, 
viewed  in  that  chill  dusk  which  at  once  shrouds  the 
death  of  night  and  swaddles  the  birth  of  day,  prin 
ciples  shrink  while  cold  facts  enlarge  beyond  all  pro 
portion.  Seen  through  its  medium,  Consuela  and 
Las  Glorias  had  receded  inversely  as  the  gray  walls 
of  the  San  Juan  car  eel  drew  near,  and,  stripped  of 
every  illusion,  integuments  of  love  and  friendship, 
his  spirit  had  shivered  in  a  dank,  dark  world  where 

338 


A   CHECK,   AND  — 

strife,  struggle,  death  seemed  the  only  relations.  De 
pressed,  he  had  gone  in  to  his  writing,  and  yet — the 
question  is  raised  as  to  the  thermal  relations  of  heat 
and  heroism — when  he  now  went  out  to  watch  the 
sunrise,  doubt  vanished  with  the  mists,  his  mind 
turned  cheerfully  to  his  plans. 

Besides  a  barbecue  and  dance,  these  aimed  at  full 
liberty  to  hunt,  fish,  or  swim  for  his  married  colonists; 
and  even  the  enganchars  were  to  be  free  of  camp  and 
river  under  limited  supervision.  And  the  fun  began 
early.  Scrape  of  feet,  bits  of  song,  laughter,  a  hum 
of  cheerful  talk  drifted  into  the  jacak  as  he  sat  down 
to  his  tortillas,  bacon,  and  coffee.  When,  later,  he 
passed  with  Magdaleno  to  and  fro  among  the  huts, 
the  brown  smiles,  glad  faces,  cheery  salutations  put 
him  in  great  heart.  In  his  own  person  he  experienced 
the  sensations  of  a  feudal  baron  in  the  midst  of  a 
contented  peasantry,  and  found  them  so  pleasant  that 
the  morning  was  well  on  before  he  recollected  E wing's 
last  warning. 

"  At  least  don't  let  him  catch  you  napping.  Come 
over  for  breakfast." 

With  it  came  the  correlative  thought:  "If  he  does 
find  me  here  I  won't  see  Consuela  again."  And  under 
its  urge  he  gave  Magdaleno  last  hasty  directions  while 
the  stable  moso  was  bringing  out  his  horse.  Mount 
ing,  he  rode  rapidly  across  the  clearing,  but  paused 
on  its  edge  to  look  back — too  late,  however,  to  see  a 
horse  and  rider  gallop  in  among  the  huts.  Warning 
came  with  the  muffled  rhythm  of  pounding  hoofs. 

339 


THE    PLANTER 

His  impulse  was  to  run,  but  the  peat  soil  had  dead 
ened  sound;  and  as  he  realized  that  the  pursuit  was 
almost  upon  him,  his  obstinate  dignity  asserted  itself. 
He  was  sitting  very  straight  and  stiff  when  Patricia 
galloped  out  from  behind  a  palm  thicket. 

"Merry  Christmas!"  she  called.  "Isn't  it  a  beau 
tiful  day?" 

After  the  first  relief  he  did  not  know  whether  he 
would  not  have  preferred  it  the  other  way.  And  if 
he  found  grace  to  answer,  she  had  yet  seen  his  quick 
glance  into  the  jungle  beyond,  the  relief  flash  and 
fade  on  his  face,  and  she  undoubtedly  read  his  mind, 

"Senor  Carruthers  was  to  have  escorted  me,"  she 
said,  hiding  a  smile  as  they  rode  on,  "but  I  waited 
and  waited  and  waited  till  I  was  tired.  Then  I 
thought  to  catch  Sefior  Phelps,  but  he  had  gone  up 
by  river.  '  But  if  at  first  you  don't  succeed,  try,  try,' 
and  you  will  get  something  better,"  she  finished,  with 
a  brilliant  smile.  "  How  do  you  like  my  new  saddle 
and  habit?  Presents  from  Santa  Claus." 

There  could  be  only  one  opinion.  Crusted  and 
worked  from  horn  to  bucket-stirrups  with  silver,  the 
saddle  was  as  fine  a  piece  of  leather-work  as  ever 
came  from  the  craft  of  Orizaba;  the  habit  proclaimed 
an  expensive  tailor.  A  rich  tan  cord,  it  lay  like  fur 
to  her  figure,  raising  in  David  that  recurrent  impres 
sion  of  a  young  tigress,  sleek,  luxurious,  sensuous,  yet 
vividly  alive. 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  ran  on:  "The 
padre  got  my  measure  from  my  dressmaker  in  Ciudad 

340 


A   CHECK,    AND 


Mexico  and  sent  it  on  to  New  York.  He  wouldn't 
tell  what  the  saddle  cost,  but  I  managed  a  peep  at 
the  bills.  The  two  came  to  almost  a  thousand  dol 
lars.  Isn't  he  good?" 

It  was  a  large  sum — even  in  Mexican  currency — 
but  David  had  ceased  to  wonder  at  Hertzer.  And, 
after  all,  this  lavish  expenditure  was  strictly  in  ac 
cord  with  his  nature,  sprang  from  the  same  instinct 
which  causes  a  Jew  pawnbroker  to  load  down  his 
womenkincl  with  ostrich  plumes  and  diamonds. 

"He  is  coming  later,"  she  said,  after  he  had  ex 
pressed  himself  on  their  price  and  beauty.  With  a 
sly  glance  from  under  drooped  lids,  she  added:  "Per 
haps  you  would  have  preferred  his  company?" 

In  view  of  her  malicious  teasing  of  the  other  day, 
it  was  certainly  hard  to  be  thus  drafted  for  her  service, 
to  ride  in  her  train  like  a  willing  captive  of  her  bow 
and  spear.  But,  turning  a  good  face  to  necessity,  he 
laughed  as  he  answered:  "Well,  hardly." 

" Consuela,  then?  Ah,  now  he  is  silent!  Is  it  that 
she  is  so  much  more  beautiful?" 

"She  could  hardly  be  that,"  he  truthfully  vent 
ured,  for  a  painter  would  have  raptured  over  the 
torso's  swelling  magnificence,  sweep  of  shapely  limb, 
face  blooming  amid  the  shadows  of  a  soft  sombrero. 
Excluding  expression,  which  is  the  odor  of  beauty, 
most  men  would  have  yielded  the  palm  to  her  riper 
charms. 

"Another  'hardly'?"  she  laughed.  "How  touch 
ing  is  your  allegiance !  The  happy  Consuela!"  With 

341 


THE    PLANTER 

an  affectation  of  frankness  so  perfect  that  he  was  com- 
pletely  deceived,  she  added:  "But,  there!  I  do  not 
blame  you.  She  is  as  good  as  she  is  lovely." 

If  it  be  urged  that  he  ought  to  have  been  more  sus 
picious,  it  should  be  remembered  that  he  had  seen 
her  in  all  less  than  a  dozen  times,  always  at  intervals 
long  enough  for  him  to  forget  her  tricks.  Even  the 
innuendo  of  the  other  day  was  merely  a  matter  of 
suspicion,  and  its  memory  was  purged  by  this  sudden 
warmth.  He  gave  her  a  look  of  glowing  thanks  in 
return  for  her  false  coin,  and  thereafter  chatted  pleas 
antly  as  they  rode  along;  nor  suspected  her  of  medi 
tating  further  breaches  of  his  peace  until  they  emerged 
on  the  Las  Glorias  clearing,  and  even  then  he  was 
too  occupied  with  the  scene  to  notice.  Always  beau 
tiful  from  any  viewpoint,  the  excitement  of  anticipa 
tion  accentuated  his  appreciation  of  the  warmth  and 
sunlight,  peace  of  Indian  summer  which  brooded 
over  the  clean  grass-land,  timbered  ridges,  tall  palm 
islands  around  the  house  and  huts.  He  was  gazing 
his  fill,  and  trying  to  make  out  Consuela's  figure  in  a 
confusion  of  people  upon  the  veranda,  when  Patricia 
spoke. 

"  I  want  to  christen  my  new  saddle.  I'll  race  you 
from  here  to  the  house." 

The  suggestion  did  not  lie  with  his  humor.  Ob 
sessed  by  his  passion  to  lead  in  all  things,  Hertzer 
kept  the  best  horses  in  the  country,  and  David  was 
not  minded  to  come  tagging  in  at  her  heels.  He  had, 
however,  no  chance  of  refusal,  for,  shooting  by  to  the 

342 


A    CHECK,   AND  — 

lead,  she  leaned  over  and  cut  his  mare  on  the  flank. 
A  nervous,  nettlesome  beast,  which  he  had  bought 
from  Don  Julian  along  with  his  cows,  she  reared, 
almost  unseating  him,  then,  as  she  shot  out  from 
strung  haunches,  he  reversed  a  first  impulse  and  gave 
her  loose  rein. 

Before  them  the  path  ran  in  the  straight  for  half  a 
mile  toward  the  house  ere  it  swung  on  a  wide  loop 
to  the  bridge  which  crossed  the  arroyo  in  front  of  the 
huts,  and,  though  it  was  flying  beneath  him  like  a 
whirling  belt,  David  had  time  to  see  and  think.  As 
they  drew  nearer  he  could  see  people  running  to  the 
veranda  edge,  and  he  set  his  teeth  in  vexation.  Bad 
enough  to  have  fallen  into  this  unwelcome  cavalier- 
ship,  it  was  worse  to  have  been  tricked  into  a  ridicu 
lous  race,  worst  of  all  to  be  beaten,  as  he  surely 
would ;  for  though  the  little  mare  was  living  up  to  the 
ranchero's  selling  boast — "  You  can  match  her  against 
the  best  in  Senor  Hertzer's  stable" — he  could  not 
lessen  Patricia's  lead  by  a  yard.  Vexed,  as  aforesaid, 
to  the  soul,  he  swore  with  a  force  and  fluency  that 
would  have  raised  the  hair  of  the  David  of  old,  and 
perhaps  it  was  this  easement  that  cleared  his  brain 
so  that  it  leaped  to  a  sudden  chance. 

From  the  bow  of  the  trail  a  smaller  path  led  on  to 
a  foot-log  that  spanned  the  arroyo  directly  in  front 
of  the  house.  Having  crossed  it  time  and  again, 
David  knew  that  the  banks  were  firm  and  trodden 
clear  of  brush.  About  fifteen  feet  across,  a  Northern 
hunter  would  have  taken  it  in  a  canter,  but  his  mare 

343 


THE    PLANTER 

was  untrained.  If  she  failed — or  balked?  Of  the 
two  he  prayed  for  the  former,  with  contingent  broken 
limbs,  as  he  swung  her  into  the  path.  Only  a  few 
yards  from  the  take-off,  it  whirled  over  a  hog's  back, 
but,  though  she  was  going  like  the  wind,  he  felt  only 
a  heave  like  that  of  a  boat  rising  over  a  sea.  Fol 
lowed  her  quick  crouch,  then,  as  though  thrown  up 
by  powerful  springs,  she  took  the  arroyo  in  bird-flight, 
and  the  next  moment  he  was  tugging  furiously  to 
prevent  her  from  driving  head  on  to  the  veranda. 

It  seemed  so  probable  that  the  women  guests  scat- 
tered  with  small  screams;  but  Ewing  jumped  to  help, 
whispering  as  he  caught  the  bridle:  "Bully  for  you, 
Davy!  Here  she  comes!  Off  with  you  and  help  her 
down!" 

Looking  backward  over  her  shoulder,  Patricia  came 
tearing  down  the  road.  She  had  not  seen  David  turn 
off,  did  not  recognize  his  standing  horse,  nor  see 
him  till  he  stepped  out  from  behind  it  to  her  own 
beast's  head.  Surprised  beyond  control,  she  then  sat, 
eyes  burning  savagely  down  upon  him  from  under  her 
frown,  till  Ewing  burst  out  laughing. 

"Got  you  that  time,  Patrick!" 

Though  she  joined  the  ripple  of  laughter  that  now 
travelled  along  the  veranda,  her  eyes  and  mouth  re 
mained  sulky,  and  as  David  reached  up  to  lift  her 
down  he  saw  the  knuckles  gleaming  white  on  the 
hand  that  held  her  quirt ;  her  body,  when  she  yielded 
it  to  his  hands,  felt  like  a  coiled  spring,  and  without 
even  a  "Thank  you"  she  passed  on  and  in. 

344 


A    CHECK,   AND 


The  leap,  brief  fight  with  his  mare,  Patricia's  dis 
comfiture  had  all  crowded  into  a  few  seconds,  yet 
through  the  rush  David  had  caught  the  anxiety  and 
soft  approbation  in  Consuela's  face  as  she  leaned 
eagerly  over  the  veranda  rail.  He  now  saw  that  she 
had  taken  a  seat  by  herself,  and,  though  his  heart 
jumped  at  the  tacit  invitation,  he  could  not  avail 
himself  of  it.  Besides  bidden  guests,  a  half-dozen 
bachelors  had  ridden  in  from  plantations  far  up  and 
down  the  river,  and  what  with  greetings  from  old  ac 
quaintances,  introductions  to  new,  and  the  anxiety 
of  all  to  learn  the  results  of  his  experiments  in  colonist 
labor,  an  hour  passed  before  he  worked  through  to 
her  chair;  and  even  then  he  had  to  listen  for  another 
half-hour  to  the  stale  first  impressions  of  a  young 
American  wife  who,  in  the  mean  time,  had  seated  her 
self  by  Consuela.  A  pretty  and  pleasant  girl,  he  yet 
sighed  his  relief  when  she  went  in-doors  and  he  was 
free  to  answer  the  question  in  the  girl's  eyes. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  when  she  spoke  of 
Hertzer.  "  I  left  late — late  enough  for  Patricia  to 
catch  me.  If  he  had  intended — " 

"Ah,  yes,"  she  interrupted,  with  a  sternness  that 
was  belied  by  the  softness  of  her  eyes.  "  How  comes 
my  cavalier  to  be  engaged  in  another  service?" 

"  Now,  now,"  he  pleaded.  "  She  overtook  me,  and 
I  couldn't  be  unmannerly." 

She  surveyed  him,  head  held  delicately  awry. 
"But  was  it  necessary  to  race?"  But  she  nodded 
as  he  explained  how  Patricia  had  struck  his  beast. 
*3  345 


THE    PLANTER 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know;  she  was  bound  to  make  of  you  a 
fool  again.  I  cried  out  when  you  turned  into  the 
foot-path,  but  if  you  had  not — I  would  never  have 
spoken  to  you  again.  But  her  father?"  Anxiety 
once  more  wiped  out  the  flush  of  feeling,  and  nodding 
toward  Boulton,  a  lanky  Westerner  from  down-river 
below  Carruthers:  "The  senor  there  saw  rurales  at 
La  Luna  as  he  came  by  last  night.  The  senorita? 
She  did  not  mention — " 

"  Only  that  he  was  coming  on  here  later.  I  couldn't 
very  well  ask  her." 

She  nodded  acquiescence.  "  We  were  talking  about 
it  just  before  you  came.  They  think  you  are  right, 
but  foolish." 

"Funny  combination,"  he  laughed. 

"  And  from  the  feeling  they  showed,"  she  continued, 
smiling,  "  I  feel  sure  they  would  defend  you." 

"  Wherein  they  refute  themselves.  '  One  fool  makes 
many,'  says  the  proverb.  However,  they  won't  be 
infected  with  my  follies  this  time,  for,  if  I'm  not  mis 
taken,  there  he  comes  now,  alone." 

As  he  also  spied  the  distant  figure,  Boulton,  the 
lanky,  cried  out,  "Here  comes  Hertzer!"  and  with 
the  exclamation  laughter  and  chatter  ceased,  only 
for  a  moment.  Realizing  the  constraint  of  sudden 
silence,  one  and  all  hid  apprehension  under  a  fresh 
irruption  of  talk.  It  was,  however,  forced;  grew 
nervously  jerky  as  Hertzer  drew  near;  could  not  be 
hidden  from  his  supernal  suspicion  by  the  volley  of 
"Merry  Christmases"  which  met  him  mounting  the 

346 


A    CHECK,  AND  — 

steps.  Drawing  into  its  characteristic  puckers,  his 
big  mouth  betrayed  a  half-humorous,  half-cynical 
comprehension  of  the  situation. 

Quite  at  his  ease,  he  gave  and  returned  greetings 
with  equal  nonchalance.  "Phelps,  you  devil,  why 
didn't  you  wait  for  me?  Came  by  river,  eh?  .  .  . 
Hello,  Boulton,  old  horse!"  To  the  newly  married 
planter:  "Murray,  why  haven't  you  been  to  see  me? 
Your  lady?  Pleased  to  meet  you,  ma'am.  Make 
him  bring  you  over."  His  friendly  smile  at  Consuela 
simmered  down  to  a  grin  at  David.  "  How  are  you, 
Mann?  Your  place  looked  like  a  Sunday  picnic 
when  I  passed."  But  the  observation  was  not 
made  unpleasantly,  and  the  grin  plainly  grew  out  of 
amused  thought.  And,  as  usually  happens  when  a 
man  is  master  of  himself,  his  unconcern  placed  him 
in  command  of  the  situation.  Five  minutes  saw  him 
centred  in  a  lively  group  whose  membership  counted 
some  who  had  not  hesitated  to  pronounce  him  a  fit 
subject  for  lynching  little  more  than  an  hour  ago. 

Despite,  however,  the  fire  of  chaff,  anecdote,  rep 
artee,  that  was  going  on  around  him,  Hertzer  still 
found  time  to  observe  both  David  and  Consuela. 
Touching  her,  his  gray  glance  lost  its  sharp  sparkle, 
his  smile,  catching  her  eyes,  was  almost  kindly;  and 
though  his  expression  resolved  into  amused  contempt 
looking  at  David,  he  threw  him  more  than  one  pleas 
ant  observation.  "Your  rubber  looks  fine,  Mann," 
he  said  once.  Again :  "  That's  a  nice  lot  of  cows  you 
had  of  Don  Julian."  And:  "You  have  really  done 

347 


THE    PLANTER 

wonders  with  the  place.  I  shall  have  to  look  to  my 
laurels."  Indeed,  he  was  at  such  pains  to  please  that 
apprehension  quickly  died;  every  symptom  of  strain 
vanished  long  before  Ewing  came  out  of  his  bedroom 
with  an  armful  of  towels. 

"Who's  for  a  dip  before  dinner?"  he  called.  "It 
isn't  everywhere  that  you  can  bathe  in  the  open  on 
Christmas  Day.  Come  along,  you  fellows,  Boulton, 
Davy,  Phelps — you,  too,  Hertzer,  it  will  sharpen  your 
appetite  for  the  pudding." 

But  Hertzer  shook  his  head.  "  Not  for  me.  To-mor 
row  is  my  mandador's  saint's  day,  and  he's  going  down 
river  to  -  night  to  celebrate  it  in  San  Juan.  I  just 
rode  over  to  give  you  a  greeting,  and  I'm  going  back 
as  soon  as  I've  had  a  chat  with  your  wife."  And  as 
they  trooped  down  the  steps  he  added:  "Adios,  and 
look  out  for  'gators.  A  little  one,  only  a  baby,  opened 
a  four-inch  gash  on  one  of  my  fellows  the  other  day." 

Instead  of  going  in,  however,  he  took  David's  chair. 
Whether  or  not  she  was  still  sulking  over  her  discom 
fiture,  Patricia  had  not  reappeared,  and  as  the  other 
American  women  now  rose  and  went  in  to  help  Mrs. 
Ewing — who  had  not  been  able  to  spare  more  than 
a  nod  and  word  to  her  guests — he  had  Consuela  all 
to  himself.  Courtesy  forbade  her  from  following, 
and  a  slight  embarrassment  passed  as  he  began  to 
talk  friendly  commonplaces. 

"  How  do  you  like  an  American  Christmas  ?"  Nod 
ding  at  the  palms,  timber,  sweep  of  sunlit  meadow, 
he  commented  on  her  answer.  "  'Tis  a  little  early  to 

348 


A   CHECK,   AND  — 

ask  —  anyway,  this  isn't  the  real  thing.  Up  North 
at  this  very  minute  sleigh-bells  are  ringing  out  on 
frozen  roads  while  folks  make  merry  in  snow-bound 
houses;  and  here  —  look  at  it,  warm  and  broody  as 
an  Italian  summer."  Offering  an  old  envelope  for 
her  inspection,  he  went  on :  "  Here's  something  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  see." 

To  her  it  appeared  a  crumpled  leaf,  dry  as  any 
other  bit  of  forest  mould,  but,  while  she  watched, 
legs,  body,  and  head  resolved  from  its  folds — a  spring, 
and  it  was  gone.  "A  beetle,"  he  explained.  "One 
of  the  fellows  that  kick  up  such  a  row  at  night.  Would 
you  believe  that  fearful  whistling  could  be  produced 
by  the  vibration  of  that  fellow's  wings?" 

It  was  difficult  of  belief,  but  he  had  proved  it  by 
observation,  and  as,  enlarging  upon  the  subject,  he 
went  on  to  dissect  into  its  component  cries  the  vol 
ume  of  sound  then  drifting  in  from  the  distant  jungle, 
the  appeal  to  her  own  passion  for  nature  caused  her 
to  forget  a  first  vivid  repulsion. 

"  It  probably  took  that  bug  a  million  years  to 
breed  himself  into  perfect  likeness  to  the  leaves  he 
feeds  on,"  he  said,  returning  from  a  lengthy  digres 
sion.  "But  it  isn't  so  wonderful  when  you  consider 
how  much  even  a  man  can  change  in  a  single  life 
time.  Take  these  university  fellows — Phelps,  Ewing, 
Carruthers.  The  last  two  were  suckled,  as  you  may 
say,  on  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  but  down 
here  they  take  to  slavery  as  easily  as  Spaniards.  All 
of  them—" 

349 


THE    PLANTER 

"Except  Don  David,"  she  put  in. 

He  started  at  her  quickness,  but  continued,  smil 
ing:  "Except  friend  David,  they  all  —  " 

"Friend  ?"  Looking  quickly,  he  caught  the  sudden 
resolution  flashing  out  of  her  bright  anger.  "  Why  do 
you  call  him  '  friend  '  —  you  who  even  now  have  rurales 
in  your  house  waiting  to  arrest  him?" 

Flushed,  tingling  with  generous  feeling,  she  sustained 
his  stare  —  even  when  amusement  displaced  surprise. 
"You  are  mistaken,"  he  slowly  answered.  "There 
are  no  rurales  in  my  house." 

It  was  difficult  to  challenge  such  deliberation,  but 
she  did.  "Senor,  they  were  seen  —  last  night." 

"You  said  'now.'" 

"Then  they  are  at  Verda  —  waiting  for  him?" 

Again  he  shook  his  head,  still  smiling  in  secret 
amusement. 

Not  to  be  put  off,  she  began:  "Do  you  mean  to 


"They  went  back  to  San  Juan  this  morning." 
This  was  still  more  difficult  of  comprehension  ;  and 
while  she  sat  looking  at  him,  thoroughly  mystified,  an 
alloy  of  calculation  interjected  itself  into  his  smile. 
Behind  it  his  keen  wits  were  working.  "It  isn't  a 
case  of  intention,"  he  interrupted,  as  she  began  to 
speak.  Then,  with  a  swift  glance  that  belied  his  ap 
parent  frankness,  he  added:  "  You  see,  my  Yaqui  came 
back  this  morning." 

"Came  back!  —  this  morning!    But  David  set  him 
free  —  gave  him  money  with  instructions  to  —  "     She 


A   CHECK,  AND— 

caught  herself  in  time  to  save  the  ranchero  from  be 
trayal. 

"Yes,  I  know;  he  left  the  money  with  Magdaleno. 
Of  course,  I  need  not  have  told  you  this.  It  would 
have  been  quite  easy  to  swear  that  I  caught  him  in 
the  jungle." 

Whatever  his  motive — whether  the  Indian's  sacri 
fice  had  really  touched  him  in  his  own  reckless  brav 
ery,  or  he  was  merely  glad  to  have  escaped  the  odium 
of  David's  imprisonment — his  frankness  served  him 
equally  well,  for  in  her  glowing  surprise  she  failed 
to  notice  its  calculation. 

"I  am  so  glad!"  she  burst  out.  After  a  diffident 
pause,  she  added:  "We  were  all  afraid — would  you 
mind  if  I  told?  It  would  make  such  a  happier 
Christmas." 

"Of  course  not.     Go  right  ahead." 

Real  or  assumed,  his  heartiness  gave  him  a  second 
lift  in  her  estimation,  emboldened  her  to  ask:  "And 
the  Yaqui?  Now  you  won't — " 

"Flog  him?"  He  relieved  her  of  the  remainder, 
and,  replying,  his  face  lit  with  a  gleam  of  genuine 
feeling.  "No,  it  would  be  useless.  ' Not  till  I  can 
take  my  people,'  he  answered,  when  -I  asked  him  if 
he  would  run  away  again — and  he  meant  it.  So, 
being  a  bit  puzzled  as  to  what  else  to  do  with  him, 
I've  made  him  a  cabo." 

"A  cabo?"  she  echoed. 

"Yes;  put  him  in  charge  of  ten  men.  When  I 
came  out  he  was  perched  on  a  stump,  large  as  life, 


THE    PLANTER 

overlooking  his  gang.  Of  course  it  is  a  bit  of  a  risk, 
but  I  save  the  hire  of  a  Zacateco,  and  they  will  do 
more  work  for  him.  But  now  I  must  go  in  and  say 
good-bye  to  Mrs.  Ewing." 

Now,  if  character  came  only  in  those  assorted 
shades  of  black  and  white  which  romanticist  writers 
sell  by  the  bolt,  the  generations  would  promptly 
knock  their  bad  men  on  the  head  and  life  resolve 
into  the  simplest  of  equations.  But  when — not  to 
mention  the  varying  blues,  grays,  reds  of  moods  and 
passions  which  occur  in  the  most  respectable  of  hu 
man  formulas — your  villain  suddenly  develops  white 
streaks,  it  plays  the  dickens  with  the  problem  by 
the  introduction  of  unsuspected  sympathies.  Had 
Hertzer,  for  instance,  continued  to  pursue  his  ruth 
less  course  a  la  traditional  bad  man,  Consuela  would 
never  have  overcome  that  first  feeling  of  repulsion. 
As  it  was,  the  touch  of  chivalry  evidenced  in  his 
treatment  of  the  runaway  strengthened  the  good 
impression  made  by  his  frank  avowal  of  defeat. 
She  not  only  went  in  with  him,  but  came  out  and 
stood  looking  curiously  after  as  he  rode  away — atten 
tions  she  would  have  altogether  omitted  could  she 
have  guessed  one  tithe  of  his  reflections,  either  then 
or  at  any  time  during  the  past  week,  for  she  had  been 
more  or  less  in  his  thought  ever  since  he  had  seen  her 
on  the  day  of  her  return  in  David's  jacale. 

Not  that  his  thoughts  were  offensive.  Though 
twenty  years  past  the  age  when  love's  iridescence  con 
tains  no  red  of  passion,  her  delicate  bloom  had  made 

352 


A   CHECK,   AND  — 

its  first  appeal  to  the  strain  of  aestheticism  in  his  queer 
nature,  the  strain  that,  in  fuller  measure,  gave  old 
Israel  its  singing  prophets,  poet  kings.  He  had  set 
her  apart  from  the  voluptuous  Tehuanas  who  had 
hitherto  filled  his  life.  But  this  granted — that  she 
blossomed  in  his  fancy  like  some  rare  dark  flower — 
the  fact  of  her  womanhood  was  bound  to  bring  her 
within  the  scope  of  passions  that  had  never  diminish 
ed  under  the  check  of  restraint.  Without  these  his 
intense  selfishness,  natural  acquisitiveness,  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  urge  him  to  transplant  her 
for  his  private  enjoyment  as  he  did  the  jungle  orchids. 
In  addition,  David's  rivalry  fused  all  into  a  furious 
obsession. 

Informed  by  Patricia  of  the  scene  at  E  wing's  table, 
he  gave  his  own  interpretation  of  Consuela's  answer, 
"Not  yet,"  as  he  rode  around  the  Verda  clearing. 
"  Not  yet!"  he  girned  through  set  teeth.  "  Not  yet!" 
frowning  at  the  distant  buildings.  "Not  yet!"  as  he 
plunged  into  the  jungle  on  the  other  side.  And  as 
he  rode  slowly  on  every  power  of  his  cunning  mind 
was  bent  toward  its  translation  into  "Never." 

Coming  out  on  Phelps's  clearing,  he  was,  indeed, 
so  lost  in  thought  that  he  neither  saw  the  English 
man's  children  scuttle  out  of  his  path  nor  heard  the 
greeting  the  graceful  mother  called  after  him  from 
the  door.  Eyes  fixed  on  his  saddle-horn,  he  rode  on. 
With  their  old  sparkle  hidden,  his  face  was  heavily 
Slavonic,  coldly  brutal.  None  could  have  dreamed 
of  the  thought  burning  behind  its  harsh  mask,  and 

353 


THE    PLANTER 

he  gave  no  sign  until,  at  sunset,  he  emerged  on  his 
own  clearing. 

Then  he  broke  out  in  a  sudden  laugh.  "Why 
didn't  I  think  of  that  before  ?  Old  Slim-Fingers,  to 
be  sure!  He  wouldn't  listen  to  me  when  he  was  down 
here.  Reckoned  he'd  make  it  on  straight  rubber, 
but  he's  had  time  to  learn  by  now.  I'll  write  him 
to-night." 

Five  minutes  more  riding  brought  him  upon  his 
men.  Their  line  ran  at  right  angles  across  his  path, 
but,  shining  into  his  eyes  from  a  low  horizon,  the  set 
ting  sun  allowed  him  to  see  only  one  figure — that  of 
the  Yaqui.  Standing  upon  a  stump  in  direct  line 
with  the  sun,  blackly  silhouetted  against  the  great 
red  disk,  he  appeared  to  be  lifted  above  the  shad 
owy  earth — loomed  a  figure  mysterious,  sombre,  por 
tentous  as  that  of  the  last  man  overlooking  the  red 
doom  of  a  world.  And  some  ray  of  awe  must  have 
pierced  down  through  Hertzer's  gross  materiality,  for, 
reining  in,  he  watched  till  the  orb  smouldered  out,  till 
quick  dusk  transmuted  the  lonely  figure  into  a  statue, 
gray  as  grief,  looking  down  on  the  dim  shapes  of  a 
fallen  people.  Perhaps  he  felt  something  of  this  also. 
Riding  forward,  his  order  to  Tomas  was  given  very 
quietly. 


XXI 


FROM  Hertzer,  writing  steadily  in  his  jacale  that 
evening,  it  is  a  far  cry  to  the  office  of  Osgood  & 
Short  in  Northfield,  Maine.  It  requires  three  days 
for  even  the  blizzard  to  sweep  down  the  Atlantic 
coast  before,  stripped  of  its  snows,  it  hurls  across  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  upon  Tehuantepec  and  Yucatan  as  a 
blustrous  "  norther."  Ten  days  of  slower  travel  would 
see  the  delivery  of  Hertzer's  letter,  but,  swifter  than 
the  subtle  wireless,  the  story  flies  forward  to. the  morn 
ing  of  its  receipt  in  the  temple  of  high  finance. 

A  glance  around  the  office  reveals  the  fact  that 
its  furnishings  faithfully  reflect  the  increased  impor 
tance  of  the  firm.  Replacing  gimcrack  veneers  of 
ash  or  elm,  a  mission  table  and  chairs  of  solid  oak 
lend  their  solidity  to  its  reputation,  for  suggestions 
of  fraud,  bankruptcy,  and  other  financial  horrors  are 
impossible  in  presence  of  their  massive  front.  The 
walls  have  also  been  done  over  in  tasteful  burlap  and 
carry  a  few  good  pictures.  Axminster  and  Persian 
rugs  add  a  costly  tone  and  assist  a  grate  fire  to  miti 
gate  the  chills  of  a  polished  floor.  Only  the  partners 

355 


THE    PLANTER 

— who  are  warming  themselves  before  it — remain  un 
changed,  for  these  accessories  of  cheer  and  taste  have 
not  modified  the  frosty  manner  of  one  or  the  hopeless 
vulgarity  of  the  other.  If  anything,  Mr.  Osgood's  fires 
of  hair  and  face  are  more  at  variance  with  his  mien; 
Short's  grossness  was  never  more  pronounced  than 
when  he  now  flings  David's  last  monthly  report  upon 
the  glowing  coals. 

"The  pup!"  he  snarled.  "I'd  break  his  back  if  I 
had  him  here!  Calls  us  everything  but  scoundrelly 
liars,  and  hints  at  that.  You'll  have  to  write  it  all 
over  again.  Why  don't  we  fire  him  ?  There's  noth 
ing  more  to  be  got  out  of  the  old  woman." 

According  to  his  custom  at  unnecessary  mention 
of  the  unmentionable,  Mr.  Osgood  raised  surprised 
brows  as  he  handed  over  a  second  letter  without  com 
ment.  "  Read  this.  Rather  a  coincidence  that  they 
should  arrive  together,  don't  you  think?" 

"Who  is  this  man?"  After  five  minutes  of  steady 
reading  Short  looked  up  at  his  partner,  who  sat,  lips 
drawn  tightly,  fingers  weaving  in  the  old  uncanny 
manner,  a  financial  shroud  for  some  one. 

"Manager  of  La  Luna,  and  no  man's  fool.  I  met 
him  when  I  went  down  to  buy  the  plantation." 

"Fool?"  Short  vented  a  savage  laugh.  "I  guess 
not.  What  a  scheme!  Let  me  look  over  it  again 
and  make  sure  of  the  detail.  .  .  .  Hum!  .  .  .  The  three 
of  us  are  to  organize  the  Amarilla  Labor  and  Improve 
ment  Company  for  the  purpose  of  working  La  Luna, 
Verda,  and  as  many  other  plantations  as  can  be  in- 

356 


—  HERTZER    TRIES    FOR    MATE 

duced  to  abandon  their  present  ineffectual  methods. 
In  return  for  one-third  stock,  he  puts  in  eighty  Yaqui 
slaves,  while  we  furnish  capital  to  buy  more  and 
keep  the  thing  going  till  returns  come  in.  Sounds 
pretty  good;  but  let's  see."  With  a  grin  he  went  on: 
"As  the  executive  officers  of  Verda  rubber,  Osgood 
&  Short  would  naturally  have  the  letting  of  contracts 
to  Osgood  &  Short,  the  labor  contractors,  and  could 
so  be  depended  upon  not  to  screw  the  price  too  tight. 
And  as  the  cost  of  producing  rubber  exceeds  our  first 
estimates  by  about — " 

"Five  hundred  per  cent." 

"  And  will  eventually  bankrupt  the  plantation  com 
pany,  Osgood  &  Short,  the  planters,  will  merely  have 
to  make  an  assignment  in  favor  of  Osgood  &  Short, 
the  contractors,  who  will  thereby  acquire  the  whole 
works.  Do  I  grasp  the  idea?" 

"  In  all  but  one  thing."  While  his  thin  fingers  knit 
still  more  rapidly  upon  the  shroud  of  Verda  rubber, 
Mr.  Osgood  went  on:  "Osgood  &  Short  will  not  act 
ually  appear  as  interested  in  either  company.  In 
the  Amarilla  we  shall  be  silent  partners.  As  re 
gards  Verda — to  tell  you  the  truth,  J.,  I  no  longer 
own  a  single  share.  Now,  all  that  remains  is  to  dis 
pose  of  yours — a  little  at  a  time,  as  the  agents  bring 
in  new  buyers,  so  as  not  to  arouse  suspicion.  Three 
months  will  do  it,  and — " 

He  stopped,  frowning,  as  Short  burst  into  a  howl 
of  laughter.  "That's  the  best  ever!"  he  roared,  hold 
ing  his  gross  sides.  "Oh,  my  golly!  There's  sure 

357 


THE    PLANTER 

a  pair  of  us,  Osgood!  I  haven't  owned  a  share  this 
five  months."  Sobering  presently,  he  sat  up  wiping 
his  eyes.  "But  look  a-here!  I  was  depending  on 
you  to  hold  control,  like  you  were  on  me,  and  this 
other  thing's  no  good  if  we  lose  the  executive  power." 

Mr.  Osgood,  however,  waived  the  objection.  "We 
sha'n't.  You  see,  it  was  never  necessary  to  vote  our 
stock  at  board  elections.  The  next  one  comes  in 
two  weeks,  and  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  stand  pat  and 
let  them  elect  us  as  heretofore." 

"My  Lordy!"  Short  broke  a  silence  during  which 
he  had  regarded  his  partner  with  unfeigned  admira 
tion.  "You  surely  beat  the  devil,  Osgood.  Why 
didn't  we  think  of  this  before?" 

Shuffling  a  little  under  the  compliment,  Mr.  Osgood 
answered:  "I  did.  Hertzer  mentioned  the  plan  when 
I  was  down  there.  But  I  hadn't  got  to  the  inside  of 
rubber  then." 

Short  broke  a  second  considering  silence.  "And 
friend  Mann?  This  lets  him  out,  of  course.  But 
won't  he  try  to  queer  us?" 

"Might  —  if  he  were  here.  But  you  read  what 
Hertzer  says  about  his  being  in  love  with  some  Mex 
ican  girl,  and  if  I  know  anything  of  the  young  man, 
he'll  stay  down  there — probably  try  for  employment 
on  some  other  plantation.  Anyway,  we'll  have  the 
thing  organized  and  the  contracts  let  to  ourselves  be 
fore  we  fire  him." 

"But  what  about  mamma?  You  know  she  owns 
almost  a  third  of  the  stock?" 

358 


—  HERTZER   TRIES    FOR    MATE 

"A  full  third,  if  not  a  little  more."  A  ghost  of  a 
smile  writhed  Mr.  Osgood's  tight  lips.  "And  all  the 
better  for  us.  There's  the  yellow-fever!  Lucky  that 
Hertzer  mentioned  it.  If  any  opposition  should  turn 
up  we'll  tell  her,  and  she'll  be  so  crazy  to  get  him 
home  that  she'll  vote  her  stock  according  to  orders. 
It's  a  cinch,  J." 

"A  lead-pipe  cinch!"  Mr.  Short  reinforced  the  fin 
ancier's  unusual  use  of  slang.  Then,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair,  he  shook  again  with  coarse  mirth.  "And 
—  oh,  my  golly,  fancy  using  his  own  stock,  as  you 
may  say,  to  vote  him  out  of  his  job!  And  a  girl  to 
keep  him  down  there !  Oh,  my  golly!  Get  busy,  Os- 
good,  and  write  Hertzer  to  get  out  the  articles  and 
send  them  up  at  once." 


XXII 

A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

THROUGH  a  chink  in  the  back  of  his  jacale,  David 
peeped  at  teacher  and  pupils  assembled  in  school. 
In  this,  the  fourth  week  of  its  dedication  to  educa 
tional  uses,  the  cabin  looked  quite  the  academy.  Out 
of  the  platform  which  had  served  for  the  Christmas 
baile,  Magdaleno  had  knocked  up  benches  and  tables 
of  a  size  suitable  for  short,  plump  legs  and  tubby 
bodies.  A  broad  plank,  smooth-planed  and  painted, 
formed  the  black-board  that  bore  a  chalked  line  in 
English  and  Spanish  —  "A  bad  boy  —  a  good  girl," 
which  unfair  classification  of  the  sexes  was  being  as 
siduously  copied  by  a  dozen  bronze  midgets. 

David  almost  laughed  as  he  noticed  that  protrusion 
of  small  red  tongue  which  has  been  found  such  an 
invaluable  aid  in  writing  by  scholars  the  world  over. 
Also  the  sidelong  glances  at  Consuela — who  moved 
among  them,  helping  here,  correcting  there,  with 
dignity  quite  matronly  —  were  quite  familiar.  But 
these  universalities  having  been  granted,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  divergences  from  the  civilized 
model  were  wider  than  the  likenesses.  Though  the 

360 


A   MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

sartorial  resources  of  four  families  had  been  strained 
to  supply  the  respectable  average  of  a  garment  apiece 
during  the  first  week,  usage  had  brought  slacker 
practice.  Deference  once  paid  to  the  educational 
proprieties,  clothing  had  decreased  day  by  day  till 
it  reached  the  normal  of  three  chemisettes  worn  by 
the  elder  girls.  The  remainder  wrought  in  the  com 
fortable  nudity  which,  after  all,  was  much  more  ap 
propriate  in  view  of  the  increasing  heat. 
"A  bad-da  boy-ee!  A  good-da  ga-al!" 
When,  presently,  they  began  to  translate  in  sing 
song  chorus,  David  had  to  turn  away  and  gag  him 
self  with  his  handkerchief.  It  was  not  the  childish 
treble  or  soft  accentuation  of  the  harsh  English  words, 
but  the  fact  that  in  these  days  the  assertion  of  vice 
and  virtue  in  the  aforesaid  boy  and  girl  was  meeting 
him  at  every  turn.  Proud  mothers  told  one  another 
about  it  from  the  doorways  of  their  respective  jacales. 
In  the  cook-house  it  went  as  a  kind  of  chant,  timing 
the  motion  of  vigorous  elbows.  He  once  overheard 
Maria  and  Seraphine  drawing  the  shameful  com 
parison  out  in  the  jungle;  even  Magdalene's  grizzled 
mustachios  had  been  seen  vibrating  above  the  mut 
tered  phrase.  In  truth,  the  whole  plantation  seemed 
to  be  in  the  race  for  linguistic  honors,  and  whatever  his 
doubts  as  to  the  lengths  the  enthusiasm  would  carry, 
David  could  not  but  look  forward  to  the  time  when 
an  enlargement  of  the  vocabulary  would  lend  variety 
to  the  general  performance. 

Peeping  again,  he  saw  that  one  small  girl  had  be- 
•4  361 


THE    PLANTER 

gun  to  nod  to  the  sleepy  cadence.  Nod — nod — nod — 
with  little  forward  plunges.  But  just  when  it  seemed 
that  she  must  fall,  Consuela — who  had  been  out  of 
his  line  of  vision — came  in  with  a  quick  flutter  of 
skirts  and  carried  her  off  to  her  own  chair.  Sitting 
there  she  gathered  the  plump,  wee  body  closer  in  to 
her  bosom,  then — and  David  thrilled — she  lifted  the 
child's  hand  and  pressed  it  against  her  own  neck. 
Time  and  again  had  he  seen  mothers  do  that,  and, 
blushing  furiously  for  his  spying  upon  the  unconscious 
revelation,  he  walked  away  pursued  by  a  vision  of  a 
clear-cut  face  with  yearning  eyes  above  a  small,  dark 
head.  And  he  moved  none  too  soon,  for  he  had 
barely  achieved  a  respectable  distance  before  a  cessa 
tion  of  the  drone  and  sudden  irruption  of  speech  an 
nounced  the  letting  out  of  school. 

A  wistful  tenderness  still  lingered  in  the  droop  of 
the  red  mouth  when  she  joined  him  at  the  stables. 
But  it  vanished  as  he  inquired  how  education  had  gone 
that  day  while  lifting  her  up  to  her  saddle.  "Finely, 
senor,"  she  answered,  brightly.  "Anita  can  say  her 
English  alphabet." 

"Ah,  my  future  book-keeper!"  he  laughed,  as  they 
rode  away.  "When  will  she  be  ready  to  begin? 
Next  week?" 

"Next  week!"  she  exclaimed,  with  surprise  that 
was  belied  by  the  merriment  in  her  eyes,  for  she  knew 
at  what  he  was  aiming.  "Next  week?  Ten  years, 
at  least." 

"Ten  years!"  Then,  with  business-like  convic- 
362 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

tion,  "I  shall  have  to  hire  a  stranger  in  the  mean 
time." 

If  she  chose  to  walk  through  the  door  he  thus 
opened,  be  sure  that  it  was  in  full  confidence  of  her 
ability  to  slip  out  before  he  could  close  it.  "  Hire  a 
stranger,  senor?  Then  it  is  that  you  are  dissatisfied 
with  me?  You  intend  to — " 

"Fire  you — yes."  Nodding  firmly,  he  went  on  to 
enlighten  the  puzzle  in  her  arched  brows.  "  Discharge 
you,  you  know — right  away,  too." 

"Oh,  the  discharge;  I  see."  Observing  him  with 
tentative  demureness,  "But — why?" 

"I  expect  to  be  married  next  month." 

"But,  senor,  you  would  not  wish  your  wife  to  keep 
the  books?  You  will  still  need  me — " 

"Yes,  I'll  need  you,  all  right  —  but  not  to  keep 
books." 

"And  the  lady?"  she  went  on,  ignoring  the  last 
remark.  "It  is  Patricia — or  the  pretty  sister  who  is 
come  down  to  keep  the  Senor  Boulton's  house  ?  No  ? 
Will  you  not  see  that  I  am  dying  of  curiosity  to  know 
her  name?" 

"Consuela." 

"The  same  as  mine!  Tell  me — is  she  beautiful — 
and  nice?" 

"Both,"  he  strongly  affirmed.  Then  being  invited 
to  describe  her,  he  did  it  with  such  strong  and  ten 
der  feeling  that  her  merriment  gradually  died.  If  he 
had  snapped  the  door  shut  just  then  ?  But  sweeping 
down  to  the  red  dusk  of  her  cheek,  the  long  lashes  safe- 

363 


THE    PLANTER 

guarded  her  tremulous  happiness,  and  he  was  gazing 
straight  ahead  as  though  he  saw  the  beautiful  ideal 
of  his  description  flitting  down  the  shadowy  jungle 
vistas.  When,  finally,  he  looked  again  her  way,  mis 
chief  had  repossessed  her. 

"And  what,  seflor,  might  be  this  paragon's  other 
name?" 

"Morales — Consuela  Morales." 

Very  alertly  she  made  her  retreat.  "  Ah,  then  you 
have  made  a  mistake.  You  remember — she  was  to 
be  your  book-keeper  until  she  grew  so  old  and  ugly 
that  your  customers  were  frightened  away.  From 
what  you  have  just  told  me,  she  ought  to  wear  another 
year.  And  I  am  sure  that  she  could  never  be  per 
suaded  to  leave  her  school." 

"Couldn't  you  do  that  if  we  were  married?" 

"I?"  She  looked  up  with  pretended  surprise. 
"We  were  talking  of  your  future  wife." 

The  last  month  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  this  inno 
cent  fooling.  For  reasons  of  her  own  —  which  will 
presently  appear — she  seemed  to  delight  in  drawing 
him  on  to  hold  him  off.  But  whereas  he  usually  al 
lowed  her  t^  turn  his  love-making  into  laughter  with 
out  protest,  he  now  spoke  with  seriousness  so  intense 
that  it  simulated  anger.  "Stop  joking,  dear.  I  be 
gan  it,  I  know,  and  it  was  wrong  to  approach  you  in 
a  flippant  spirit.  But  see,  dear — I  love  you — will  you 
be  my  wife?" 

So  it  was  out  at  last,  in  all  seriousness,  given  with 
a  gravity  that  precluded  further  trifling.  Broaden- 

364 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

ing  as  it  crossed  a  dry  marsh,  the  path  here  permitted 
them  to  ride  abreast,  and  he  had  pressed  in — so  close 
ly  that  he  heard  her  small  sigh,  could  see  down  through 
her  eyes,  those  clear  brown  windows,  the  irresolution 
that  issued  from  the  conflict  between  inclination  and 
some  obscure  contrariness.  As  a  man  stares  into  the 
quivering  amber  of  a  sunlit  pool,  he  glimpsed  her  sud 
den  impulse,  thrust  of  feeling  toward  him.  Then,  just 
as  a  ruffle  of  wind  leaves  only  a  broken  reflection,  it 
was  gone;  he  saw  only  her  face  framed  in  twinkling 
lights.  But  the  glimpse  was  enough  to  raise  up  pas 
sion  in  aid  of  love,  banish  his  timidity.  A  sudden 
bend  gave  him  her  lips,  the  moist  red  lips  that  made 
no  attempt  at  avoidance.  But  as  his  arms  went 
about  the  relaxed  figure,  she  suddenly  straightened 
and  drew  away  as  a  shout  rose  behind  them. 

" Hello,  you  folks!  They  told  me  at  the  finca  that 
you  had  just  gone,  and  I've  been  riding  hard  to  catch 
up." 

Of  all  places  in  the  world,  the  heart  of  a  tropical 
forest  might  surely  be  considered  the  very  safest  for 
love-making;  but  it  was  just  David's  luck,  and  he 
cursed  it  beneath  his  breath,  looking  back  at  Phelps. 
As,  reining  in,  they  waited,  Consuela's  eyes  tele 
graphed,  "Do  you  think  he  saw?"  But  the  confu 
sion  attendant  on  the  doubt  was  not  sufficient  to  pre 
vent  her  from  whispering:  "It  will  be  best  for  you  to 
go  back.  He  will  see  me  home."  And,  answering  his 
pleading  look,  "Manana,  I  shall  surely  come." 

While  his  coarser  masculine  fibre  prevented  David 

365 


THE    PLANTER 

from  realizing  her  motive,  the  embarrassment  natural 
in  the  presence  of  a  lover  only  half -declared,  the  soft 
look  which  accompanied  the  promise  almost  recon 
ciled  him  to  the  dismissal ;  he  yielded  to  her  wish  with 
grace  that  brought  its  reward.  For  as,  after  a  few 
minutes'  talk,  they  rode  on,  Phelps  in  the  lead,  she 
turned,  threw  him  a  kiss  from  delicate  finger-tips, 
and  so  left  him  to  ride  slowly  home  through  an  en 
chanted  jungle,  a  country  transmuted  into  fairy -land 
by  the  seeing  eyes  of  love. 

Meanwhile  she  was  journeying  through  the  light 
and  color  of  the  same  magical  country,  though  in 
the  opposite  direction.  If  Phelps  had  not  seen  the 
kiss,  he  might  almost  have  divined  it  from  her  quiet 
brooding,  soft  silence  that  might  have  been  less  pro 
nounced  if  she  had  liked  him  more.  Academic  to 
the  bottom  of  his  small ,  dry  soul  in  all  things  outside 
the  scope  of  his  passions,  his  manner  with  her  had 
always  been  tinged  with  that  lofty  patronage  which 
Englishmen  display  to  the  alien,  the  consciousness 
of  superiority  which,  based  on  the  dead  past,  is  left 
undiminished  by  the  miserable  accomplishment  of 
the  living  present.  It  showed  in  his  indulgent  listen 
ing  whenever  she  spoke,  as  much  as  in  his  laughter 
at  the  least  of  the  flashes  of  wit,  naive  humor  that 
enlivened  her  conversation — the  uproarious  laughter 
one  accords  to  the  accidental  cleverness  of  a  child — 
was  most  offensive  in  his  evident  admiration,  whose 
expression  always  ran,  "You  are  very  pretty — for  a 
little  savage."  In  view  of  all  which,  it  is  small  wonder 

366 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

that  she  now  returned  only  monosyllables  to  his  re 
marks,  or  looked  up  with  quick  offence  when  he  began 
to  speak  in  his  patronizing  way  of  her  school. 

"By-the-way,"  he  said,  concluding  what  was  in 
tended  for  a  eulogy,  "you  have  gained  a  convert. 
Hertzer  was  telling  me  yesterday  that  he  would  open 
a  school  at  La  Luna — if  he  could  hire  as  pretty  a 
teacher." 

"Yes?"  she  asked,  without  a  smile;  and  having 
thus  killed  his  bald  compliment,  she  added:  "Then 
it  is  for  you  to  apply?  I  am  told  that  you  taught 
in  England?" 

Now,  between  the  graduate  master  of  a  great  Eng 
lish  boarding-school,  say  Harrow  or  Rugby,  and  the 
common  or  garden  variety  of  board-school  teacher, 
exists  a  gulf  wide  as  that  said  to  have  been  fixed 
between  Dives  and  Lazarus — at  least  in  the  opinion 
of  the  master.  Reddening,  Phelps  glanced  quickly 
to  see  if  the  thrust  were  intentional,  but,  deceived 
by  her  calm  innocence,  he  was  going  on  to  explain 
the  existence  and  extent  of  the  said  gulf,  when  she 
touched  him  again  in  his  weak  pride. 

"I  should  think  it  would  pay  better  than  rubber- 
planting." 

Again  he  looked  quickly,  for  the  notorious  poverty 
of  his  company  was  as  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  his  self- 
importance.  But  her  inscrutable  innocence  preserved 
the  secrets  of  bedroom  gossip.  Suspicious,  however, 
as  well  as  nettled,  he  withdrew  to  safer  ground,  vent 
uring  only  commonplaces  during  the  half -hour  re- 

367 


THE    PLANTER 

quired  to  carry  them  into  Las  Glorias.  But,  if  more 
careful,  his  temper  did  not  improve  under  restraint. 
If  more  of  respect  there  was  less  liking  in  the  glances 
that  travelled  her  way — then,  at  dinner,  and  when, 
thereafter,  they  carried  their  coffee  out  to  the  veranda. 
And  after  she  and  Mrs.  Ewing  went  in-doors  at  dark, 
spite  had  about  an  equal  share  with  his  dominant 
egotism  in  shaping  his  talk  with  Ewing. 

It  is  trite  to  exclaim  at  the  triviality  of  causes 
which  have  sometimes  brought  about  grave  results. 
A  hundred  instances,  light  as  the  cackle  of  the  goose 
that  saved  Rome,  bring  weariness  to  the  mind,  but 
the  fact  remains  —  if,  out  of  the  consideration  so 
natural  to  her,  Mrs.  Ewing  had  not  compelled  Con- 
suela  to  occupy  the  bedroom  which  had  previously 
been  her  own,  the  girl  would  not  have  overheard  the 
aforesaid  conversation.  Tired  from  teaching  and  the 
long  ride,  she  retired  early,  leaving  Mrs.  Ewing  to 
write  home  letters;  and  as  her  room  possessed  the 
only  inside  entrance  and  modesty  constrained  her 
from  lighting  her  lamp,  there  was  no  warning  for  the 
men.  Usually  the  dry  rattle  of  palms  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  drown  their  voices,  and  in  no  case 
would  Ewing  have  imagined  they  could  be  heard  the 
length  of  the  veranda;  but,  aiding  the  conspiracy  of 
small  causes,  a  soundless  night  converted  it  into  a 
whispering  gallery  with  her  window  for  its  focus.  . 

Had  she  even  gone  at  once  to  the  sleep  her  weariness 
had  earned,  the  event  would  have  addled  in  the  egg, 
for  time  passed  before  the  talk  narrowed  from  plan- 

368 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

tation  affairs  down  to  personal  gossip.  But  what  girl 
ever  went  from  a  proposal  straight  to  her  sleep  ?  In 
this,  the  first  moment  of  quiet,  she  sat  on  the  edge  of 
her  bed,  dreaming  soft  dreams  till  Phelps's  dry  tones 
pierced  her  reverie. 

"  Davy  seems  to  be  heavily  smitten  with  your  little 
Mexican." 

"You  mean  Miss  Morales?" 

If  Phelps  noticed  the  emphasis,  it  merely  irritated 
his  self-importance,  urged  him  to  fresh  offensiveness, 
for  he  went  on:  "I  thought  it  was  all  on  his  side  when 
I  saw  them  Christmas  Day,  but  this  afternoon  I  caught 
them  kissing.  Wouldn't  it  be  a  howling  josh  if  he 
married  her?" 

Following  his  thin  chuckle,  Ewing's  cold  answer 
came  out  of  the  gloom.  "  No  doubt  I'm  a  little  dense 
to-night,  but  I  fail  to  see  it." 

Through  his  colossal  egotism  Phelps  felt  the  check. 
"  Oh,  of  course,  she's  all  right,"  he  said,  hastily.  Then 
he  continued  with  that  apologetic  warmth  which  re 
asserts  the  thing  it  verbally  denies:  "She's  a  nice  girl, 
mighty  pretty  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know. 
But,  after  all,  old  man" — here  he  became  wisely  pa 
ternal — "she  is  Mex,  and  it  would  never  do.  What 
would  his  people  say?" 

"Hum!  I  thought  that  by  precept  and  example 
you  taught  the  philosophy  of  mixed  races?" 

"Only  socially."  Phelps  passed,  if  he  felt,  the  sar 
casm.  "What  is  good  for  the  race  is  sometimes  hell 
for  the  individual,  As  for  my  example — I'm  not  mar- 

369 


THE   PLANTER 

ried.  But  you  don't  mean  to  say,  old  man" — he  drop 
ped  again  into  the  wisely  paternal — "that  you  are  in 
favor  of  such  a  mesalliance?" 

"Since  you  put  it  that  way — I  am."  With  explo 
sive  force  he  added,  "What's  more,  I  think  he'll  be 
damned  lucky  to  get  her." 

"Then  that  ends  the  argument."  Darkness  cov 
ered  Phelps's  shrug,  and  only  the  quickened  glow  of 
his  cigar  betrayed  his  nervous  irritation.  When  the 
uneasy  gleam  had  become  more  regular  he  asked, 
"And  what  about  Hertzer?" 

"What's  he  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"  Only  that  he  is  in  love  with  her,  too.  And  if  you 
know — " 

"You,  also?"  Ewing  interrupted.  "Nell  said  the 
same  yesterday,  and  I  laughed  at  her." 

"Laugh  all  you  want,  but  it  is  so.  I  was  joshing 
him  a  bit  yesterday  and  he  fired  up  like  a  boy  in  his 
calf-love.  Seems  to  me  that  every  one  is  going  crazy 
— or  I  am." 

"Now  I  begin  to  see,"  Ewing  said,  musingly.  "So 
that  is  why  he  took  the  Yaqui's  return  so  pleasantly. 
The  old  fox!  Of  course,  it  is  perfectly  absurd.  Not 
to  mention  his  age — forty-five,  isn't  he? — there's  his 
record.  Rosa  is  the  last  of  twenty — " 

"And  that  is  the  funniest  ever!"  Phelps  chuckled. 
"  He  has  sent  her  away." 

"What!" 

"He  has.  Set  her  up  with  a  house  and  a  sewing- 
machine  in  San  Juan  along  with  his  other  mistresses. 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER   GAME 

There's  quite  a  colony  of  them  there.  Indeed,  when 
Carrie  was  down  the  other  day,  the  old  Jefe  was  ask 
ing  about  Hertzer's  new  girl,  and  he  threw  up  his 
hands  in  horror  at  the  idea  of  the  damage  his  marriage 
would  do  to  the  census." 

"Well,  he  needn't  be  afraid,"  Ewing  commented, 
grimly.  "  Hertzer  has  carried  things  with  a  high  hand, 
but,  if  I  know  anything,  his  face  is  now  set  toward  his 
Waterloo." 

Consuela  did  not  hear  that,  or  any  of  the  references 
to  Hertzer — better  if  she  had;  the  knowledge  would 
have  served  her  well  in  the  near  future.  Face  buried 
in  her  pillow,  she  lay  mute  as  a  stricken  deer  while 
love  and  pride  fought  over  the  phrases  that  rang  in 
her  ears.  "After  all,  she  is  Mex.  .  .  .  What  would 
his  people  say?  .  .  .  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
are  in  favor  of  such  a  mesalliance?"  The  distressful 
iteration  prevented  her  from  taking  cognizance  of  other 
sounds.  She  heard  neither  the  scrape  of  chairs,  tramp 
of  departing  feet,  nor  the  cuckoo-clock  that  cried  off 
the  miserable  hours  in  the  dining-room  outside  her 
door.  Her  reflections  —  will  keep  till  she  tells  them 
herself.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  certain  intuitions 
had  sprung  from  subconsciousness  into  the  state  of 
living  facts;  that  she  rose  at  daybreak,  heavy-eyed 
from  staring  them  in  the  face. 

Five  miles  away  as  the  crow  flies,  seven  by  the 
jungle  path,  David  was  also  rising  after  a  wakeful 
night.  Heavy  eyes,  however,  cannot  be  an  invari- 

37i 


THE    PLANTER 

able  product  of  sleeplessness,  for  daylight  showed  a 
fine  sparkle  in  his.  Perhaps  he  had  never  looked, 
certainly  had  never  felt  better  than  he  did  when, 
after  breakfast,  he  rode  out  like  a  knight  of  old  to 
meet  his  lady  in  the  forest.  Indeed,  his  radiance 
betrayed  him  to  Phelps,  who  met  him  half-way  be 
tween  the  plantations. 

"Sorry  it's  me,  old  man,"  he  grinned.  "But  just 
keep  right  on  and  you'll  meet  her." 

Though  aching  to  punch  his  head,  David  neverthe 
less  obeyed,  putting  his  horse  at  a  gallop  the  moment 
he  was  out  of  hearing,  and  so  in  half  an  hour  burst 
into  a  sunlit  glade  along  which  she  was  riding  slowly. 
All  night  he  had  thought  and  dreamed,  wreathing  their 
meeting  with  many  a  loveliness,  delicate  fancy,  and 
now  his  hands  shot  out — to  drop  again  as  he  noticed 
the  sad  eyes  in  their  setting  of  purple. 

"Why— Consuela!"  he  cried  out,  sharply.  "What 
is  it?" 

She  also  had  done  a  little  rehearsing — as  is  the  fash 
ion  with  maids  who  have  made  up  their  minds  that 
duty  requires  a  "nay" — but  the  apprehension,  an 
ticipation  of  pain  in  his  face,  banished  the  kindly 
preparation.  "Oh,  why  did  he  overtake  us  yester 
day?"  she  burst  out  against  fate.  "Then  I  should 
have  said  'yes,'  nor  ever  have  heard  their  talk.  But 
there!  It  is  that  I  am  wicked  again,  for  just  now  it 
was  that  I  told  myself:  'I  am  glad  that  he  is  saved 
from  the  misery.'  Yes,  I  am  glad — for  you." 

In  proof  of  her  extreme  gladness  she  tried  to  smile, 
372 


A    MOVE   IN   ANOTHER    GAME 

but  her  quivering  lips  refused  the  traitorous  office, 
dropped  instead  into  soft  woe.  "The  Senor  Phelps," 
she  replied  to  his  anxious  demand.  "He  and  Senor 
Ewing  talked  last  night  outside  my  window,"  she 
added,  and  so  went  on  to  describe  the  conversation. 
Finishing,  she  trembled  so  violently — this  maid  who, 
under  the  sting  of  injured  pride,  had  promised  her 
self  to  inform  him  haughtily  that  she  could  never 
marry  an  alien — that,  fearing  she  would  fall,  he  leaped 
down  and  lifted  her  from  the  saddle.  Greater  shame 
for  that  stern  maid!  She  did  not  try  to  cast  off  the 
arms  that  remained  about  her. 

"Nonsense!"  he  snorted,  a  little  reassured  by  her 
complaisance.  "Who  cares  for  the  opinion  of  that 
stiff-backed  Englishman?  Why  didn't  I  know  this 
before  I  met  him !"  Pie  shook  a  valiant  fist.  "  Well, 
I'll  see  him  again — " 

"No,  no!"  vShe  pulled  his  arm  down.  "He  must 
never  know  that  I  heard." 

"As  for  my  people,"  he  went  on,  "I  have  only  my 
mother,  and  she  will  love  you." 

"  Your  mother?"  Shaking  her  head,  she  said,  with 
simple  wisdom:  "If  it  were  your  father — he  might. 
But  your  mother?  A  woman?  Never!  She  would 
hate  me  for  spoiling  your  life.  And  see,  David" — he 
thrilled  at  his  name — "this  is  not  the  first  time. 
You  remember  Patricia — " 

"The  little  cat!"  he  hotly  interrupted. 

"  Yet  she  took  her  contempt  out  of  the  mouths  of 
the  Americanos  who  come  to  La  Luna.  And  I  have 

373 


THE    PLANTER 

heard  of  the  pride  of  your  nation.  No,  David,  it 
cannot  be." 

Her  delivery  of  the  ultimatum  was  almost  up  to 
the  stern  standards  of  the  maid  of  the  trail,  but  she 
weakened  at  his  sorrowful  answer.  "Then  you  don't 
love  me,  Consuela." 

"I  do!  Oh,  I  do!  Not  at  first,  perhaps,  though  I 
always  liked  you.  It  came  so  gradually — first  liking, 
then  respect  for  your  strength  and  goodness,  and  I 
did  not  realize,  fully,  until  last  night  I  felt  your  love 
slipping  away.  Then  I  knew  —  that  it  was  not  co 
quetry  that  made  me  hold  you  off,  but  the  desire  to 
hear  you  tell  it  again,  again,  and  again,  the  love  of 
which  a  woman  can  never  hear  enough.  It  was  in 
stinct,  the  instinct  which  bids  one  make  the  most  of 
the  sweet  time  that  comes  but  once  in  life.  And  now 
it  is  ended." 

"No,  just  begun."  He  drew  her  closer.  "Only 
just  begun,  dear." 

"But—" 

"If  you  love  me,  that's  all  there's  to  it,"  he  said, 
logically,  if  with  slang,  and  he  cut  off  a  second  "but" 
in  the  most  effectual  of  ways. 

And  for  a  while  she  submitted  —  lay  in  his  arms, 
the  mischievous  beauty  who  had  come  between 
him  and  so  much  of  his  sleep,  lay  relaxed,  almost 
swooning,  while  he  took  a  sweet  revenge  for  her 
small  coquetries  —  lay  till  the  resentful  girl  of  the 
trail  again  awoke  and  covered  her  lips  with  her 
hand.  In  default  of  the  lips,  he  kept  on  kissing 

374 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER   GAME 

the  hand  even  while  it  gently  forced  his  head 
away. 

"There,"  she  said,  unlocking  his  fingers  one  at  a 
time  from  her  waist.  "I  let  you — once" — the  count 
was  generous,  a  hundred  being  closer  the  mark — 
"because  you  are  never  to  do  it  again.  .  .  .  Never" 
she  repeated,  as  he  tried  to  dodge  the  hand;  then,  as 
he  succeeded,  "Senor!"  with  such  piercing  sweetness 
that  he  drew  back  abashed — for  a  moment,  only  a 
moment,  for  the  next  he  seized  and  lifted  her,  almost 
with  violence,  into  her  saddle. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  she  asked,  half  afraid 
of  the  straight-browed,  hard-lipped,  iron-jawed  man 
who  had  ousted  the  diffident  youth  from  her  court 
ship. 

"Take  you  over  to  my  place,  put  you  into  a  canoe, 
and  run  you  down-river  to  the  priest  in  San  Juan. 
You'll  be  a  married  woman  this  time  to-morrow." 

He  meant  it,  and  she  knew  that  he  meant  it;  yet 
from  some  obscure  corner  of  her  nature  the  moiety 
derived  from  some  far  cave  girl  asserted  its  approval 
of  his  masterly  wooing.  A  gleam  of  admiration  light 
ened  the  fear  in  her  eyes,  played  there  until  the  fear 
gave  place  to  wistful  amusement. 

"He  would  never  marry  us  without  my  consent." 

He  had  not  got  so  far  as  that,  but  if  it  brought  con 
sternation  into  his  thought,  he  held  sternly  on  without 
looking  back. 

"And  from  San  Juan  one  may  easily  take  passage 
back  to  Ciudad  Mexico." 

375 


THE    PLANTER 

When,  now,  he  did  look  back,  the  desperation  in 
his  glance  caused  her  to  relent.  "If  you  do  not 
make  it  too  hard  for  me,  there  is  still  a  duty  for  me 
here."  With  the  slightest  touch  of  the  old  mischief, 
she  added,  "  But  perhaps  you  would  rather  I  went — " 

"Back  to  that  store?  No,  no!  There,  I'll  behave 
— till  you  alter  your  foolish  little  mind."  He  added 
the  saving  clause. 

"Very  well,  senor — " 

"  David,"  he  corrected,  unwilling  to  lose  any  ground. 

"Senor  David—" 

"David!" 

"David — let  go  my  bridle-rein." 

He  had  an  idea  that  she  intended  to  bolt,  but  the 
suspicion  died  when  she  rode  quietly  forward,  and  as, 
presently,  she  began  to  talk  of  her  school,  his  plans — 
which  she  well  knew  stood  next  to  herself  in  his  heart 
— and  very  much  to  his  own  surprise  he  soon  found 
that  he  was  talking  back  quite  freely.  Awakening 
to  the  fact,  he  attempted  a  relapse  to  the  status  of 
the  heart-broken  lover.  But  the  mood  did  not  last. 
However  unwilling  to  yield  a  jot  of  his  unhappiness, 
he  was  too  honest  for  such  self-deception.  He  was 
soon  talking  again;  had  almost  arrived  at  the  normal 
when  he  left  her  to  call  in  school,  even  laughed  at  her 
mischievous  remark: 

"So  you  will  not  need  to  hire  a  book-keeper,  after 
all." 

"Quien  sabe?"  he  questioned,  riding  away. 

That  morning,  moreover,  it  fell  luckily  that  he  had 
376 


A    MOVE   IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

to  allot  gardens  and  measure  off  task-work,  for  the 
three  families,  Tadeo's  relatives,  arrived  from  Ciudad 
Mexico  the  preceding  day;  and  engrossed  in  the  work, 
he  successfully  tided  over  a  second  relapse  and  met 
her  quite  cheerfully  coming  out  of  school.  Riding 
back  through  the  jungle,  optimism  made  further  gains 
as  he  contrasted  his  present  status  with  that  of  yes 
terday.  At  least  she  had  confessed  her  love,  besides 
— he  thrilled  at  the  thought  —  paying  its  sweet  toll 
in  kisses.  As  for  marrying — time  would  bring  that. 
And  just  before  he  turned  back — she  would  only  allow 
him  to  go  half-way — he  beguiled  her  into  a  cunning 
trap. 

"And  you  won't  marry  me?"  he  asked,  saying 
good-bye. 

"No— David." 

"But  you  won't  marry  any  one  else?" 

She  returned  a  still  more  vigorous  "No." 

"Neither  will  I,"  he  affirmed,  stoutly,  if  incorrectly. 
"  Now,  look  here :  if  you  won't  marry  any  one  but  me, 
and  I  won't  marry  any  one  but  you,  we  are  engaged, 
aren't  we?" 

She  did  not  attempt  to  refute  this  negative  logic; 
and  if  silence  gives  consent,  as  said,  then  was  he  jus 
tified  in  reading  her  smile  as  assent.  In  any  case  it 
lit  his  homeward  path,  transmuting  the  jungle  into 
the  fairy-land  of  yesterday. 

"  Marry  me  ?    Yes,  miss  " — he  concluded  a  pleasant 
reverie  as  he  emerged  on  the  Verda  clearing — "if  I 
have  to  bring  mother  down  to  make  you." 
*s  377 


THE    PLANTER 

A  low  afternoon  sun  was  flooding  the  clearing  with 
fluid  gold  that  flowed  in  quivering  waves  over  the 
small  palm  city,  dark  environing  rubber,  and  through 
its  warmth  floated  a  busy  hum,  snatches  of  talk,  shrill 
treble  of  children,  laughter  of  women  preparing  the 
evening  meal  for  the  men  who  sang  as  they  came  in 
by  twos  and  threes  from  the  field.  As,  reining  in, 
David  drank  it  all  in,  there  flashed  up  in  his  mind  the 
reverse  of  the  picture,  the  line  of  wretched  workers 
that  used  to  dribble  at  sundown  over  the  hot  face  of 
the  land  in  sullen  silence.  Out  of  that  dark  travail 
he  had  brought  this  sunny  content.  The  thought  was 
sweet  in  his  mouth.  The  joy  of  accomplishment  still 
shone  on  his  face,  when,  riding  up  to  the  stable,  he 
found  Hertzer  sitting  on  a  box  beside  the  door. 

A  certain  lowering  curiosity  with  which  Hertzer 
had  watched  him  approach  gave  place  to  his  usual 
cold  imperturbability  as  he  uttered  a  casual  greeting. 
"  Pretty  warm  to-day  ?  The  heat  is  right  on  us  again. 
I  noticed  coming  out  that  my  new  clearing  is  almost 
dry  enough  to  burn.  I've  been  here  nearly  an  hour," 
he  went  on,  answering  David's  question.  "  But  the 
time  wasn't  wasted.  I  was  walking  around  looking 
at  things.  The  Zacatecos  did  a  good  job  on  those 
new  jacales.  Here's  a  letter  for  you  that  came  under 
cover  to  me." 

Under  his  nonchalance,  however,  strong  feeling 
made  itself  felt,  a  suggestion  of  the  suppressed  triumph 
that  forced  expression  in  a  cold  grin  as  David  began 
to  read. 

378 


A    MOVE    IN    ANOTHER    GAME 

The  grin  vanished  as  David  looked  suddenly  up. 
"  I  think  you  have  made  a  mistake." 

"Let  me  see.  That's  so.  I  gave  you  my  letter. 
Here's  yours."  Though  he  spoke  carelessly  enough 
he  could  not  altogether  hide  a  feeling  of  discomfiture, 
and  while  David  opened  and  read  his  own  letter, 
Hertzer  studied  him  with  harsh  suspicion. 

The  letter  was  not  very  long.  Stripped  of  hypo 
critical  expressions  of  esteem,  its  contents  could  have 
been  squeezed  into  a  couple  of  sentences.  Owing 
to  the  dissatisfaction  in  his,  Mr.  David's,  reports  con 
cerning  labor  and  other  problems  involved  in  the 
cultivation  of  rubber,  the  company  had  decided  to 
sublet  its  work  and  management  to  the  Amarilla 
Labor  and  Improvement  Company,  of  which  Mr. 
Ludwig  Hertzer  was  active  manager.  ''On  receipt 
of  this,"  Mr.  Osgood  closed,  "you  will  please  hand 
over  everything  to  him,  taking  a  month's  salary, 
with  our  compliments,  in  lieu  of  the  usual  notice." 

Discharged ! 

Aware  of  the  sunset's  deeper  gold,  the  bustle  of  life 
around  him,  David  stood  staring  down  at  the  letter, 
thought  suspended,  smothered  beneath  a  sense  of 
ruin  utter  and  complete. 


XXIII 

THE    MOVE 

"AND  how  likest  thou  the  service?" 
/\  Casamira,  the  wife  of  Seraphine,  gave  greeting 
to  Tadeo's  kinsman  as  she  passed  on  her  way  to  the 
river.  In  common  with  the  other  volunteer  women, 
she  had  moulted  the  sad  blacks  of  the  plateau  in  favor 
of  the  gorgeous  Tehuana  reds,  and  as  she  tripped  by,  a 
flutter  of  crimson,  water  olla  poised  gracefully  on  her 
head,  one  would  never  have  recognized  the  thin  slave 
whom  David  once  saved  from  Rafaela's  stick.  Her 
coquettish  smile  at  the  man  also  promised  a  new  order 
of  trouble  in  the  Verda  cosmos  when  a  little  more  ease 
and  good  feeding  should  have  restored  the  dominance 
of  her  flesh. 

Breaking  in  on  David's  red  confusion,  her  remark 
brought  pause  to  his  consternation.  "  This  is  rather 
sudden,"  he  said,  looking  up.  "And  unnecessary — 
from  my  point  of  view.  If  they  had  exercised  a  little 
patience,  I  would  havo  made  the  plantation  self-sup 
porting  in  a  very  few  years.  However,  there's  no  use 
talking.  I  only  want  to  ask  one  question.  What 
will  you  do  with  the  labor  already  on  the  place  ?" 

380 


THE    MOVE 

Hertzer's  harsh  brows  lifted  again  while  undoubted 
relief  dictated  his  ready  answer:  "Take  over  your 
enganchars  and  credit  their  unexpired  time  to  the 
Verda  company  upon  our  books.  After  they  leave 
we  shall  use  only  Yaqui  labor." 

"And  my  volunteers?" 

"They  can  take  their  choice  —  enganchar  with  us 
or  leave.  We  can't  bother  with  independent  la 
bor." 

Again  the  sense  of  ruin  rolled  over  David.  Travel 
ling  helplessly  around  the  camp,  his  glance  took  in 
the  children  at  play  in  the  compound,  the  men  who 
ate  supper  out  in  the  cool,  the  wives  sitting  to  gossip 
in  their  doorways,  the  rumble  of  pleasant  talk  from 
the  big  galera.  It  was  all  to  be  destroyed,  this  con 
tent  of  his  creation,  and  he  was  powerless  to  save  it! 
The  thought  brought  agony  vivid  as  physical  pain; 
sweat  started  from  every  pore;  and  in  that  moment 
he  realized  not  only  that  his  plans  for  his  people  had 
been  born  out  of  himself  with  travail  real  as  the  birth- 
labor  of  women,  but  also  how,  in  a  larger  sense,  he  was 
meshed  in  the  golden  net  of  the  tropics.  Splendor  of 
suns  moving  to  crimson  consummations  over  singing 
jungles,  magnificence  of  teeming  life,  blaze  of  white 
stars  in  languorous  skies,  splash  of  great  rains  and 
silence  of  brazen  heat,  roar  of  the  "norther,"  scented 
kiss  of  the  night  wind,  these  had  passed  like  an  in 
sidious  poison  into  his  blood,  gripped  hold  of  his  very 
being. 

How  much  they  had  taught  him,  the  tropics,  of 

381 


THE    PLANTER 

his  other  unsuspected  self  ?  But  his  development  in 
sense  and  reason  had  shown  nothing  so  startling  as 
the  sudden  lust  to  kill  which  now  obsessed  him,  the 
intense  desire  to  quench  the  sparkle,  cold  as  the 
effervescence  of  soda,  in  the  eyes  of  this  man  who 
was  about  to  wreak  irreparable  damage  upon  his 
helpless  people.  All  that  he  himself  had  seen,  every 
act  of  his  hard  record,  seemed  concentrated  in  that 
moment,  and  David's  fingers  itched  for  the  bull  throat, 
itched  to  squeeze,  sink  in,  till  life  and  supernal  wick 
edness  oozed  out  together.  Ay,  he  could  have  killed 
—  easily,  for  them!  But  the  desire  passed  with  a 
sense  of  its  own  futility.  With  some  dim  idea  of 
not  provoking  the  power  to  break  and  scatter,  he 
constrained  himself  to  quiet  speech. 

"You  wish  to  take  charge  now?"  When  Hertzer 
nodded  he  said,  "The  books  are  at  Las  Glorias.  I 
am  going  there  now,  however,  and  I  will  bring  them 
back  to-morrow." 

"  Or  we  can  go  over  them  there,"  Hertzer  answered. 
"  I  want  to  see  Ewing  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well.  You  don't  mind  if  I  leave  my  things 
here  for  a  few  days?" 

"  As  long  as  you  choose." 

He  had  spoken  absently,  under  quiet  strain,  and  as, 
mounting  again,  he  rode  slowly  away,  speculative  cu 
riosity  returned  to  Hertzer 's  eyes.  "  So  badly  rattled 
he  doesn't  know  what  he's  doing.  Went  off  without  a 
word  to  his  mandador,  which  is  just  as  well.  .  .  .  Bet 
ter  leave  things  as  they  are  till  I've  had  a  talk  with 

382 


THE   MOVE 

the  girl.  .  .  .  Wonder  how  much  he  read  of  my  letter  ? 
.  .  .  Hello,  he's  woke  up  at  last!" 

From  a  slow  walk  David  had  spurred  his  beast  to  a 
gallop,  and,  if  Hertzer  had  only  known  it,  the  thought 
behind  the  impulse  was  identical  with  that  in  his  own 
mind.  For,  groping  through  his  stupor  of  misery  for 
causes  behind  it  all,  he  remembered,  first,  that  Hert- 
zer's  letter  was  in  Mr.  Osgood's  writing;  then  a  sen 
tence  blazed  out  in  sudden  significance: 

"  Better  keep  our  partnership  quiet  for  a  while." 

"My  God!"  he  cried  aloud,  as  the  concatenation  of 
lying  pamphlets,  doctored  reports,  and  other  small 
rascalities  flashed  up  to  fuse  in  one  idea.  "  It's  a 
conspiracy!  They've  gone  in  together  to  wreck  the 
company!"  And,  laying  on  both  quirt  and  spurs,  he 
tore  across  dry  morasses,  took  the  array os  in  long 
heaves,  swept  with  swish  and  crackle  of  broken 
branches  through  overgrowths,  careless  of  thorns — 
put  the  little  mare  at  speed  that  brought  him  into 
Las  Glorias  within  the  hour. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Ewing  jumped  up  as  he 
burst  in  upon  them  at  dinner. 

"And  your  face!"  his  wife  cried.  "It  is  running 
blood." 

Touching  it,  he  looked  his  surprise,  for  he  had  not 
felt  the  thorns  which  had  criss-crossed  it  into  the 
semblance  of  a  creased  flank  steak.  After  one  glance 
Consuela  ran  into  her  bedroom,  to  emerge  as  quick 
ly  with  a  towel  and  bottle.  "It  is  nothing — " 
he  began.  But,  exercising  a  pretty  authority,  she 

383 


THE    PLANTER 

made  him  sit  down,  wiped  away  the  blood,  then  while 
he  talked  she  bathed  the  cuts  with  witch-hazel. 
And  while  the  small,  wet  hand  moved  softly  over  his 
face  he  would  not  have  counted  the  pleasure  pur 
chased  too  dearly  if  the  flesh  had  been  stripped  to  the 
bone. 

"Why,  it's  Rubero  over  again!"  Ewing  exclaimed 
at  the  tale.  "  Rubero  in  its  early  stages,  for  they 
formed  subsidiary  company  after  company,  each  let 
ting  contracts  to  the  others  at  enormous  profits,  and 
when  the  thing  finally  went  to  smash  it  was  impos 
sible  to  fix  the  responsibility  for  the  graft.  And  I 
don't  doubt  that's  where  Hertzer  got  the  idea.  As 
regards  the  other  two  scoundrels  —  if  it  wasn't  for 
your  big  stake  in  the  plantation,  I'd  say  stand  aside 
and  leave  their  punishment  to  him.  He'd  clean  them 
out  to  the  last  cent,  leave  them  bare  as  dry-plucked 
chickens.  But  we  can't  do  that.  Now  let's  see.  .  .  . 
The  first  thing  is  to  get  you  reinstated.  I  think  you 
told  me  once  that  your  mother  owned  nearly  a  third 
of  the  Verda  stock?  More  than  a  third?  Better 
still,  it  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  get  a  majority  to 
oust  that  pair  of  rascals. 

"Of  course  it  will  have  to  be  done  quietly.  You 
won't  dare  to  show  your  nose  in  Northfield  till  you 
have  your  coup  all  ready  to  spring.  So  I'm  going  to 
give  you  a  letter  to  my  uncle  in  New  York,  who  will 
give  you  all  the  advice  and  help  that  you  need.  For 
he's  not  only  rich,  but  he  made  it  all  in  stocks,  and 
what  he  doesn't  know  about  them  can  never  be 

3«4 


THE    MOVE 

learned.  What's  more,  he  is  especially  interested  in 
rubber,  and  I  have  already  mentioned  your  labor 
experiments  to  him  in  my  letters.  'If  your  friend 
solves  the  problem  of  tropical  labor/  he  wrote  me 
the  other  day,  'he  will  do  not  only  the  rubber  busi 
ness,  but  the  world  at  large,  an  incalculable  service, 
for  labor  is  the  crux  of  every  tropical  problem.  Keep 
me  informed  of  his  progress.'  So  you  go  to  him  well 
recommended,  and  if  I  know  anything  of  the  dear 
old  chap  he'll  move  heaven  and  earth  to  help  you." 
Rising,  he  added:  "But  there's  no  time  to  lose.  We 
can  talk  details  going  down  the  river.  I'm  going  now 
to  rout  out  Joachim.  If  we  can  get  away  in  an  hour 
you  can  just  catch  the  morning  train." 

"And  you  must  have  some  clean  things."  Mrs. 
Ewing  jumped  up  as  her  husband  went  out.  "  How 
lucky  that  you  and  Frank  are  about  the  same  size! 
Consuela,  dear,  I  can  do  it  alone.  Just  keep  on  with 
his  poor  face." 

In  the  matter  of  clean  things,  David  displayed 
masculine  indifference,  but  he  blessed  the  considera 
tion  that  gave  him  a  half-hour  alone  with  Consuela. 
To  a  casual  eye  it  might  have  appeared  that  he  made 
poor  use  of  the  time,  for  he  hardly  spoke  for  twenty 
minutes.  But  love's  silences  were  ever  more  eloquent 
than  words.  She  understood  her  share  in  his  quiet 
dejection,  expressed  sympathy  through  the  petting 
of  wet,  cool  hands,  was  not  offended  that  his  first 
words  should  relate  to  his  people. 

On  the  contrary,  she  offered  quiet  comfort.     "  You 


THE    PLANTER 

have  done  your  part,"  she  told  him,  as  once  before. 
"  And,  see!  you  will  soon  return  triumphant  and  rein 
stated." 

"  But  it  will  take  a  month,"  he  groaned.  "  In 
that  time  he  can  break  and  scatter  them  all  over  the 
Isthmus." 

"  No,  for  I  shall  gather  and  care  for  them  till  your 
return." 

"  You  are  a  dear,"  he  burst  out,  and  so  fell  to  kissing 
her  fingers  whenever  they  approached  his  mouth. 

Doubtless  because  of  his  sore  trouble  she  permitted 
it,  nor  made  more  than  a  flutter  of  resistance  when, 
suddenly  catching  her  wrists,  he  pulled  her  down  till 
her  cheek  came  against  his  over  his  shoulder.  More 
shame  for  that  stern  girl  of  the  morning  trail !  When 
he  pleaded  for  a  last  kiss  she  laid  her  soft  lips  on  his 
of  her  own  volition. 

"  Because  you  are  going  away,"  she  excused  her 
self,  and  so  straightened  quickly  as  a  tentative  cough 
announced  the  return  of  Mrs.  Ewing. 

Good  woman  that  she  was  in  her  sympathetic  in 
sight  into  the  needs  of  lovers,  she  had  brought  cloaks 
for  herself  and  Consuela.  "As  if  we  would  let  you 
go  out  on  that  cold,  dark  river  without  a  soul  to  bid 
you  good-bye!"  she  exclaimed.  And  the  measure  of 
his  gratitude  ran  over  when,  all  being  ready,  she  led 
off  with  Ewing,  leaving  him  to  bring  Consuela. 

If  anything,  the  lantern  that  a  moso  carried  ahead 
served  to  emphasize  rather  than  lighten  the  darkness, 
and  David  found  it  quite  easy  to  slip  an  arm  beneath 

386 


THE    MOVE 

the  cloak.  "You  know  we  are  engaged,"  he  whis 
pered  as  a  little  hand  seized  his.  But  instead  of  cast 
ing  off  his  arm  according  to  expectation,  she  drew  it 
closer  about  her.  Because  of  which  he  was  embold 
ened  to  ask  a  question  that  had  lain  at  his  tongue's 
tip  this  hour.  "  Dear — if  my  mother  asks  it  — will 
you?" 

She  did  not  answer  at  once — nor  at  all,  in  words. 
For  some  time  the  fluttering  hand  betrayed  her  agita 
tion,  but — just  before  the  lantern  picked  the  canoe 
out  of  swift,  black  waters — its  pulsing  ceased  and  he 
felt  a  reassuring  squeeze. 

"No  time  for  good-byes."  E wing's  voice  broke 
like  the  knell  of  fate  upon  his  intoxication.  "  Kiss 
'em  all  round,  Davy,  and  jump  in."  So,  albeit  under 
sanction  of  Mrs.  Ewing's  hearty  example,  the  mute 
promise  was  sealed  by  a  kiss. 

Quick  as  ever  to  understand,  Mrs.  Ewing  snatched 
the  lantern  as  the  canoe  floated  out  and  held  it  close  to 
Consuela's  face — so  close  that  David  could  easily  see 
the  eloquent  smile,  the  love  glow  in  the  warm,  brown 
eyes.  It  bloomed  like  a  flower  in  the  rich  night,  the 
delicate  face  with  its  rare  coloring,  and  when  it  had 
drawn  down  to  the  size  of  a  petal  her  call  still  drifted 
across  the  dark  waters — 

"  Buena  ventura!"     (Happy  fortune.) 


XXIV 

THE    GIRL    PLAYS    THE    MAN*S    GAME 

IN  the  nature  of  things  the  pain  of  a  departure 
strikes  harder  upon  those  left  behind,  for  besides 
having  neither  new  scenes  nor  people  to  distract  from 
brooding,  familiar  objects  recall  the  absent  at  every 
turn.  As  next  morning  Consuela  gently  rocked  on 
the  veranda,  her  wistful  eyes,  mouth  drooped  almost 
to  tears,  told  their  lonely  tale.  Though  the  land 
scape  blazed  outside  with  a  brilliance  of  green,  lux 
ury  of  foliage  unseared  as  yet  by  the  waxing  sun,  her 
gaze  passed  over  its  beauty,  glued  to  the  distant 
river  down  whose  black  reaches  she  was  travelling  in 
thought  with  David.  San  Juan,  gray  and  squalid  in 
the  cold  dawn,  the  bubbling  fecundity  of  the  tierra 
caliente,  the  brown,  teeming  life  of  the  thousand  palm 
villages  which  dot  its  steaming  jungles,  these  passed 
in  remembered  procession  ere  fancy  climbed  with  the 
panting  engine,  crazy,  jolting  cars,  out  of  the  blue, 
misty  canyons  of  Orizaba  to  Ciudad  Mexico,  on  the 
plateau.  There,  at  the  bounds  of  experience,  fancy 
halted;  not  that  she  could  not  or  did  not  imagine 
David  speeding  northward  by  faster  trains  into  the 

388 


THE   GIRL   PLAYS   THE   MAN'S  GAME 

heart  of  a  land  densely  peopled  and  heavily  forested 
with  the  skyscrapers  of  the  picture-postals.  A  sudden 
blush  even  marked  a  thought  of  herself  accompany 
ing  him  in  the  capacity  he  most  desired;  but  the  idea 
was  ousted  as  soon  as  conceived. 

"  No,  no,"  she  murmured.  "  His  mother  will  never 
consent — or  if  she  does  ?  Still  are  there  others.  No, 
Consuela,  it  was  wicked  of  thee  to  lend  encourage 
ment." 

In  direct  contradiction  of  this  pessimism,  her  happy 
colors  persisted,  added  their  glow  to  the  suffusion  of 
light  that  strained  down  upon  her  through  a  reed 
petate,  drenching  with  fluid  gold  the  loosely  coiled 
hair  which  framed  the  delicate  tracery  of  her  feat 
ures,  dyeing  her  white  morning  wrapper  with  tints 
rich  as  the  creams  and  rose-dusk  of  her  face  and  neck. 
Sitting  there  as  under  the  soft  radiance  of  a  stained 
window,  she  made  a  picture,  fresh,  virginal,  rare  as 
the  illusive  ideal  which  sets  the  artist  raging  at  the 
limitations  of  brush  and  canvas — a  picture  that  drew 
a  gasp  from  Mrs.  Ewing,  another  woman,  when  she 
presently  stole  to  the  door  camera  in  hand. 

"Oh,  you  beauty!"  she  mentally  exclaimed.  "You 
little  beauty!  If  Davy  could  only  see  you  now!  If 
you  were  the  least  bit  inclined  toward  frivolity — what 
a  time  he  would  have!  Let  me  see!  .  .  .  with  that 
light  ...  an  eighth  of  a  second  should  do." 

Click!  click!  click!  six  times  repeated  as  fast  as  she 
could  turn  up  the  films,  caught  a  Consuela  quietly 
pensive,  archly  surprised,  appealingly  protestant  for 

389 


THE    PLANTER 

just  one  moment  to  arrange  her  hair,  sweetly  vexed 
at  the  refusal,  lastly  exhibiting  small,  white  teeth  in 
consenting  laughter;  a  series  beautiful  in  their  soft 
lighting  as  well  as  subject,  and  which  were  to  cause 
David's  heart  to  leap  in  his  throat  some  two  weeks 
later. 

"He  whispered  me  to  do  it  while  kissing  me  good 
bye,"  Mrs.  Ewing  laughed.  "There,  don't  look  so 
jealous,  dear!  He  only  used  me  as  a  road  to  you." 

"Jealous — of  you?"  How  Mrs.  Ewing  longed  for 
another  film  to  catch  the  wide  eyes  under  high  pro 
testing  brows!  "You,  who  have  been  so  good  and 
kind?  See,  he  is  my  most  precious,  yet  would  I  give 
him  to  thee — if  I  could." 

"The  saving  clause."  Mrs.  Ewing  laughed  merrily 
again.  "  I  think  I  see  you !  Anyway,  you  won't  be  put 
to  the  test.  One  man  is  trouble  enough — at  times." 
Pausing,  she  looked  across  the  clearing.  "Some  one 
is  coming — over  there — across  the  foot-bridge." 

"It  is  the  Sefior  Hertzer.  David  said  he  would 
come  this  day  to  inspect  the  books." 

"Yes,  it  is  he."  While  the  laughter  died  in  her 
eyes  she  went  on:  "I  must  say  hat  I  don't  feel  like 
receiving  him.  It  is  all  very  well  for  Frank  to  talk 
of  keeping  the  peace  among  neighbors,  but  one  must 
draw  a  line  somewhere,  and  this  time  he  has  surely 
overstepped  it.  Of  what  use  is  friendship  if  we  are 
not  loyal?  I  shall  tell  him  exactly  what  I  think  of 
his  conduct — " 

"  No,  no!"  Consuela  broke  in.    "  For,  see,  he  has  the 


THE    GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S    GAME 

power  now  over  the  Verda  people,  power  to  break 
and  scatter.  Rather  it  is  that  we  should  be  pleasant, 
manage  him  till  David  comes  again." 

"That  will  be  something  of  a  contract,  dear,  he  is  so 
acutely  suspicious,"  Mrs.  Ewing  mused.  Then,  while 
seriousness  settled  in  meditative  mischief,  she  added: 
"But  it  would  be  lots  of  fun.  Only  we  shall  have  to 
go  slowly  —  simulate  coldness  and  leave  him  to  con 
quer  our  reserve.  Here  he  comes!  I've  just  time  to 
run  in  for  a  bit  of  sewing.  It  is  an  invaluable  aid — 
good  as  a  man's  cigar — in  conversation;  leaves  you 
free  to  raise  and  lower  your  eyes." 

She  had  just  time  to  slip  into  a  rocker  before 
Hertzer  rounded  the  work-buildings,  and  at  the  sight 
of  them,  quietly  sewing,  he  was  filled  with  sudden  mis 
givings.  "Ready  to  jump  me,"  he  put  it.  And  he — 
the  man  who  had  frozen  with  cold  laughter  the  furi 
ous  passion  of  his  cast-off  Tehuana  wife  as  he  took 
away  her  knife — shrank  under  the  ice  of  their  tem 
pered  greetings.  Not  knowing  whether  or  not  to  dis 
mount,  he  shuffled  uneasily  in  the  saddle  while  asking 
for  Ewing. 

"He  took  David  down-river  to  the  train,"  Mrs. 
Ewing  coldly  answered.  Withal,  she  took  care  to 
leave  an  opening  for  explanations.  "The  poor  boy 
is  dreadfully  hurt  at  the  manner  in  which  his  company 
has  treated  him,  and  is  going  North  to  demand  ex 
planations.  What  is  this  company  that  is  to  work 
Verda,  Mr.  Hertzer?  He  seemed  to  have  only  the 
vaguest  understanding  himself." 

391 


THE    PLANTER 

As  she  expected,  and  very  gladly,  he  jumped  at  the 
lead.  "One  that  I  have  organized  with  American 
capital,  ma'am,  to  work  not  only  Verda,  but  also  La 
Luna  and  other  plantations,  for  we  expect  eventually 
to  get  them  all  on  this  river.  You  see,  things  can  be 
done  so  much  more  economically  on  a  large  scale, 
they'll  just  naturally  have  to  come  in.  There's  no 
sense  in  keeping  up  a  dozen  different  gangs  of  en- 
ganchars  when  half  the  number,  properly  managed, 
would  do  better  work.  Take  Las  Glorias,  for  instance. 
Though  you  employ  about  seventy  enganchars  all 
the  year  round,  your  rubber  is  never  more  than  half 
clean,  for,  by  the  time  the  gang  has  worked  through  to 
one  end,  there's  a  six-foot  growth  at  the  other.  But 
under  our  system  we  should  throw  in  men  enough 
to  clean  it  down  to  the  gravel  in  a  couple  of  weeks, 
then  it  would  be  off  your  hands  for  months.  At  the 
most,  three  cleanings  a  year  would  keep  it  in  the  finest 
trim." 

"  And  we  shouldn't  need  to  keep  enganchars  at  all  ?" 
Mrs.  Ewing  looked  up  from  her  sewing  with  a  beauti 
ful  pretence  of  interest. 

"No,  ma'am,  only  a  stable  moso  and  your  house 
servants.  And  think  of  the  saving  in  book-keeping, 
oversight,  and  so  on !  It  would  lighten  Frank's  work 
fully  two-thirds." 

"Why,  how  nice!"  she  cried.  "Don't  you  think 
so,  Consuela?"  ^With  equally  well-acted  pensiveness 
she  continued:  "But  poor  Davy!  And  he  worked  so 
hard  on  his  colony  scheme!" 

392 


THE    GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S    GAME 

"Got  results,  too.  Verda's  in  fine  shape."  His  keen 
glance  noted  a  further  thaw,  and  more  at  his  ease  he 
went  on  with  assumed  regret :  "  But  old  methods  have 
to  give  way  to  the  new.  After  all,  it  is  rubber  we  are 
raising — not  natives." 

"That  is  so,"  Mrs.  Ewing  sighed.  Looking  down 
again  at  her  sewing,  she  demurely  added:  "At  first 
we  were  inclined  to  take  up  the  cudgels  for  David, 
but  I  suppose  it  is  only  right  that  his  company  should 
look  first  to  its  interest."  She  sighed  again.  "Of 
course,  that  doesn't  lessen  our  regrets  for  him,  merely 
alters  our  point  of  view.  And  his  volunteers!  I  sup 
pose  they  will  have  to  go?" 

"And  my  school?"  Consuela  burst  in.  "Oh,  my 
poor  little  children!" 

Here  was  no  acting,  and  the  genuine  feeling  in  her 
cry  drew  his  glance  to  herself  from  Mrs.  Ewing. 
"That  is  one  of  the  things  I  came  over  to  talk  about 
— if  you  can  spare  me  a  few  minutes."  It  was  not 
necessary  to  add  "alone,"  for  Mrs.  Ewing  rose  at  once. 

"Of  course  she  can.  I  have  to  go  in  now,  but  I 
shall  see  you  again  at  lunch.  You  must  stay — it  will 
take  some  time  to  go  over  the  books.  You  had  better 
bring  them  out  here,  Consuela  dear.  It  is  so  stuffy 
inside." 

While  the  talk  was  going  on  Hertzer  had  stolen  re 
peated  glances  at  the  serene  face,  the  graceful  head 
that  rose  like  a  dark  tulip  from  the  billowy  white  of  her 
dress,  and,  as  she  now  followed  in-doors,  his  eyes  went 
after,  drinking  thirstily,  greedily,  of  her  youthful  fresh- 
26  393 


THE    PLANTER 

ness.  He  made  slow  business  tying  his  horse,  and  in 
its  midst  a  sudden  gray  blaze,  quick  clinch  of  his  hard 
fists,  marked  a  vision  of  her  moving  about  his  jacale 
in  that  same  way.  But  by  the  time  she  had  returned 
with  the  books  he  had  pulled  down  the  blaze  to  quiet 
interest. 

"We  won't  bother  with  them  now."  He  laid  a 
huge  fist  on  the  books.  "None  but  a  fool  would 
question  David's  honesty  —  or  accuracy,  for  matter 
of  that.  Plenty  of  time  when  he  returns — if  he  ever 
does." 

The  serene  countenance  returned  only  mild  curiosity 
to  his  quick  look.  "You  think  he  will  not?" 

"Can't  say,  but  I'd  think  he'd  be  very  likely  to 
take  a  disgusto  and  stay  up  home  when  his  mission 
fails — as  it  surely  must.  If  he  should,  we'll  just  trans 
fer  his  enganchar  accounts  to  my  books  at  the  end  of 
the  month,  giving  Verda  credit  for  the  value  of  their 
unexpired  time." 

"And  the  volunteers?"  she  questioned. 

"  I  was  coming  to  that."  Smiling  at  her  eagerness, 
he  went  on  in  a  strain  that  indicated  both  knowledge 
and  understanding  of  her  passion  of  self-reproach, 
desire  to  make  amends,  repay  the  unconscious  profit 
she  had  had  out  of  La  Senora's  business.  "I  know 
what  an  interest  you  took  in  his  colony  scheme,  and, 
while  I'm  not  going  to  deny  that  he'd  have  made 
good  you  know  just  as  well  as  I  do  that  no  other  man 
could.  The  patience,  perseverance,  sense  of  duty  re 
quired  for  the  job  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  average 

394 


THE    GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S    GAME 

gringo — at  least,  in  the  variety  that  flourishes  about 
here."  Calculated,  or  issuing  naturally  from  his  hardy 
indifference  to  consequences,  the  frank  praise  served 
him  equally  well,  and  in  either  case  he  did  not  fail  to 
note  her  sudden  accession  of  interest.  "  I  haven't  got 
them,"  he  ran  on,  "never  had  and  never  will  have, 
for  I'm  too  old  and  hard  in  the  mouth  to  be  broken 
to  such  gentle  tricks.  But  it  doesn't  follow  that  I 
don't  recognize  the  value  of  the  scheme  now  that  it 
is  working.  I  do.  What's  more,  I  mean  to  keep  it 
going — if  I  can  find  some  one  to  undertake  the  man 
agement." 

"You  mean — me?"  Though  his  tentative  look  in 
vited  the  question,  she  hesitated  to  believe  the  fates 
so  kind. 

But  his  nod  affirmed  the  look.  "  Yes,  in  preference 
to  any  one — partly  because  I  need  Magdaleno  and 
can't  get  him  without  you" — he  hurried  to  cover  the 
ulterior  motive  with  a  show  of  bluntness — -"and  be 
cause  you  understand  and  can  manage  the  people.  Of 
course,  there'll  be  a  few  changes.  All  labor  comes 
under  my  contract,  and  they  will  have  to  figure  on 
the  books  as  regular  enganchars.  But  they  will  be 
free  to  come  and  go,  cultivate  their  holdings,  and 
receive  the  same  pay  for  work  performed  as  before. 
Now,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

It  was  a  big  question  to  decide  off-hand,  but  hesi 
tation  had  vanished  with  doubt,  and  she  answered 
at  once,  "  I  would  do  anything  that  did  not  interfere 
with  my  school." 

395 


THE   PLANTER 

"It  won't.  Now  here's  my  proposition.  You  are 
getting  eighty  a  month,  Mex,  to  keep  the  Verda  and 
Las  Glorias  books?  Then  I'll  give  you  a  hundred  to 
keep  mine  and  manage  the  volunteers,  and  the  work 
won't  be  so  heavy  but  that  you'll  have  plenty  of  time 
for  your  school.  Of  course,  you  will  have  to  live  at 
Verda—" 

"  With  Magdaleno,"  she  said.     " That  will  be  nice." 

"And  the  sooner  you  go  the  better."  He  grinned 
as  he  added:  "I  suspect  that  Magdaleno  doesn't  al 
together  like  to  see  me  pottering  around  there.  You 
know  I  stayed  all  night,  and  this  morning  he  sniffed 
and  growled  around  my  heels  like  a  sulky  bull-dog; 
wouldn't  go  out  to  work  till  I  left." 

"Yes,  he  was  always  faithful,"  she  smiled.  "How 
would  it  be  if  I  went  back  with  you  after  lunch?" 

"Fine!"  he  ejaculated,  slapping  his  thigh. 

"Then,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  go  and  get 
ready." 

As  she  rose  and  went  in-doors  he  watched  her  as 
before,  and  if  Mrs.  Ewing  could  have  seen  his  quiet 
triumph  she  would  have  abated  something  of  her 
joy  at  the  report  the  girl  gave  in  the  seclusion  of  her 
bedroom.  "What  luck!"  she  breathed,  for  Hertzer 
sat  not  far  from  the  open  window.  "What  luck! 
He  has  played  right  into  our  hands.  Who  would 
have  expected  it  of  such  suspicion!  But  Frank  al 
ways  said  that  suspicion  was  born  of  credulity,  and 
now  I  believe  it.  He's  been  so  easy  that  I  doubt 
whether  I'll  be  able  to  keep  a  straight  face  at  lunch." 

396 


THE    GIRL   PLAYS   THE   MAN'S    GAME 

In  the  face  of  such  success  it  was  difficult  to  main 
tain  the  tempered  reserve  she  had  marked  out  for 
herself.  But  if  Hertzer  noticed  her  cheerful  lapses, 
occasional  mischievous  smile,  they  served  to  blind 
him  the  more,  for,  as  a  man  is  his  own  measure  of 
others,  he  could  only  view  them  in  the  light  of  his 
own  contempt  toward  David.  "Out  of  sight,  out  of 
mind,"  he  thought,  listening  to  Consuela's  laughter 
at  some  secret  sally.  "She'll  soon  forget — if  she  ever 
cared." 

Watching  them  ride  away  after  lunch,  however, 
Mrs.  Ewing  did  have  her  doubts,  and  gave  them 
musing  expression.  "  I  don't  altogether  like  it.  ... 
But  she  will  be  perfectly  safe  with  Magdaleno,  .  .  . 
and  I  shall  make  Frank  ride  over  every  few  days." 

On  her  part,  Consuela  was  presently  exercising  her 
self  on  another  score;  for,  as  they  passed  from  the 
blazing  heat  of  the  open  into  the  cool  of  timbered 
jungle,  there  burst  from  the  crude  husk  of  Hertzer, 
the  slave-driving,  acquisitive,  dominant  Jew,  a  new 
person  of  open  laughter  and  kindly  glances — one  who, 
while  kindling  with  enthusiasm  over  newly  hatched 
plans,  displayed  an  embarrassed  deference  toward  her 
almost  boyish. 

Even  if  she  had  sensed  the  motive  behind  it  all, 
she  must  still  have  been  touched,  for  one  and  all  of 
his  plans  aimed  at  her  own  comfort  or  pleasure.  As  it 
was  effectually  screened  by  his  age,  the  twenty  years 
between  them,  she  credited  it  to  kindness  and  was 
moved  to  contrition  for  her  double-dealing — contri- 

397 


THE    PLANTER 

tion  that  grew  and  deepened  when,  with  a  certain 
bitterness,  he  began  to  speak  of  himself. 

"I  don't  doubt  that  it  seems  queer  to  you  that  I 
should  talk  this  way.  I  know  that  I'm  counted  a 
hard  man  on  this  river — not  without  reason.  But  if 
some  of  those  who  raise  their  hands  at  me  had  had 
my  beginnings,  .  .  .  well,  to  put  it  lightly,  they'd  be 
just  as  far  from  the  priesthood." 

With  hot  feeling  that  sprang  from  a  sudden  reali 
zation — by  contrast  with  her  delicacy — of  the  cruel 
handicap  imposed  on  his  birth  by  fate,  he  went  on  to 
tell  of  those  beginnings — the  hard  knocks  of  his  love 
less  youth  in  the  wicked  squalor  of  the  Trieste  board 
ing-house,  brutalities  of  the  following  years  at  sea, 
misguidance  of  the  easy-living  tropics — and  as  he  ran 
on,  picking  from  that  seething  riot  of  life  that  which 
was  fit  for  her  ears,  sympathy  strengthened  contri 
tion.  She  was  feeling  dreadfully  wicked  when  he  came 
back  at  last  to  his  plans. 

"But  I'm  sick  of  it  all  and  I'm  going  to  make  a 
change — show  them  that  Hertzer  can  make  men  as 
well  as  money.  I  intend  to  build  a  big  camp  for  my 
Yaquis — have  already  selected  the  site,  a  sort  of 
plateau,  high  and  dry  in  the  rains,  with  a  fine  view 
and  handy  to  the  river.  It  will  be  laid  out  on  sanitary 
lines — drainage,  running  water  in  the  wash-rooms,  big, 
roomy  galeras  and  separate  huts  for  families,  all  inside 
a  compound  half  a  mile  square.  I'm  even  planning 
for  a  doctor;  either  some  young  surgeon  with  a  taste 
for  the  tropics  or  one  of  the  other  kind — the  outcasts, 

398 


THE    GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S    GAME 

clever  enough  chaps — whom  drink  drives  out  from  the 
competition  of  the  cities.  Such  a  one  would  be  plenty 
good  enough  for  me,  and  with  a  small  salary  and  a  lit 
tle  practice  among  the  plantations  he  could  do  pretty 
well." 

This  was  not  all — a  hospital,  amusements,  holidays, 
everything  that  would  make  for  content  of  body  and 
mind  figured  in  his  talk,  which  lasted  from  Las  Glorias 
to  the  Verda  clearing;  and,  however  chimerical  it  may 
all  appear  in  view  of  his  past  performance,  he  was  not 
necessarily  insincere.  The  mood  is  the  man — for  the 
moment.  To  the  most  wicked  comes  a  time  when, 
if  only  through  satiety,  evil  palls  and  the  spirit  leaps 
to  a  vision  of  better  things;  and  while  the  girl's  soft 
eyes  beamed  approval  it  was  easy  to  turn  to  the  good. 
Sincere  or  not,  the  talk  produced  a  reaction  with  her 
in  his  favor,  and  she  gave  immediate  assent  when  he 
proposed  to  open  a  school  at  La  Luna. 

"  Without  counting  the  Yaquis,"  he  said,  "  old  Tomas 
has  four  children,  and  we  could  rake  up  five  or  six  more 
among  the  cabos." 

"Oh,  the  Yaquis!"  she  exclaimed.  "The  poor  little 
slaves!  I  should  love  to  teach  them  best." 

With  a  smile  almost  soft  enough  to  be  a  reflection 
of  her  tender  pity,  he  went  on:  "There's  one,  a  girl 
of  fifteen,  whom  you  can  have  for  a  servant.  And 
we'll  fix  up  a  hut  for  you  close  to  the  house,  where 
you  can  teach — and  sleep  when  you  don't  feel  up  to 
the  ride  back  to  Verda.  She  can  take  care  of  it." 

This  last  proposal  brought  them  to  the  forks  of 
399 


THE    PLANTER 

David's  trail,  and  whether  or  no  he  had  purposely 
delayed  it,  he  continued,  without  giving  her  time  to 
answer:  "And  now  I  must  leave  you,  for  La  Luna 
hasn't  seen  me  for  two  days,  and  I  rather  expect  to 
find  my  big  Yaqui  running  the  place.  In  any  case 
it  isn't  a  bad  idea  to  let  you  explain  things  to  Mag- 
daleno ;  he'll  take  it  better  from  you.  See  you  again 
to-morrow,  or  next  day  at  the  latest." 

With  a  pleasant  " adios"  he  passed  on  along  the 
outer  trail,  leaving  her  to  ride  forward  and  unbosom 
herself  of  compunctions  and  explanations  to  Mag- 
daleno,  whom  she  met  coming  out  of  the  store.  The 
old  fellow's  grizzled  mustachios  bristled  above  puffed 
lips  as  she  told  of  the  plot  against  David.  He  smiled 
grimly  at  Mrs.  Ewing's  clever  play,  and  frowned  at 
the  aforesaid  compunctions  while  giving  quick  answer. 

"What  sense  in  thy  distress?  Once  a  tigerino, 
always  a  tigerino.  If  it  be  that  the  Senor  Hertzer 
make  this  great  business,  it  is  not  of  goodness,  but  for 
his  own  profit.  But  Don  David?  Pleasant,  kind,  the 
big  heart  of  him  turned  so  to  the  good  of  men  that 
I,  who  was  in  this  service  of  enganchadores  from  my 
youth,  have  to  learn  from  him  in  my  age  that  great 
works  proceed  only  out  of  mercy.  There  is  a  man — 
child!  Think  only  of  him,  and  go  forward  without 
flinching  in  the  face  of  this  other,  that  we  may  keep 
the  people  together  against  the  return." 

"Only  I  would  not  like  it  that  he  should  be  turned 
from  the  good  through  me,"  she  was  beginning,  when 
he  sternly  interrupted. 

400 


THE   GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S    GAME 

"  If  the  good  be  there,  it  will  out.  If  not,  of  what 
avail  thy  effort?  Come,  give  me  the  horse,  then  we 
will  have  the  old  woman  make  ready  the  cabin." 

A  little  comforted,  she  would  have  been  still  more 
at  ease  could  she  have  divined  Hertzer's  reflections 
riding  homeward.  Turning  onto  a  side-path  after  he 
passed  Phelps's  place,  he  came  out  in  a  few  minutes 
upon  the  plateau,  the  site  of  his  future  camp.  The 
height  of  land  thereabout,  it  gave  him  a  glimpse  of 
La  Luna  and,  down-river,  a  cloud  of  smoke  above  a 
clearing  that  Carruthers  had  burned  off  that  morning. 
Up-river,  Phelps's  house  and  buildings  rose  like  point 
ed  rocks  from  the  yellow-green  scum  of  a  banana- 
patch.  Beyond,  the  Verda  roofs  glinted  in  the  sun, 
and  still  farther  he  picked  a  dark  patch  the  size  of 
his  hand  from  the  brighter  green  of  the  jungle — two 
thousand  acres  of  Ewing's  rubber.  And  as  he  took 
it  all  in,  the  gray  blaze  lit  again  to  a  sudden  vision 
—  of  people  coming  and  going  between  serried  rows 
of  jacales,  roomy  galeras,  mushrooms  of  fancy  that 
sprang  up  all  over  the  wide  plateau.  A  dry  rattle  of 
palms  in  the  jungle  was  as  the  stir  of  wind  in  their 
sere  thatch,  and  through  the  murmur  of  insects  he 
heard  the  hoarse  commands  of  cabo  and  mandador, 
the  hum  and  bustle  of  a  great  camp,  the  half-thousand 
Yaquis  that  were  some  day  to  do  the  work  of  that 
river. 

Nor  halted  fancy  there.  While  his  gaze  wandered 
from  plantation  to  plantation  his  thought  kept  pace 
with  his  eyes.  "  Carruthers's  people  ? . . .  poor  as  crows. 

401 


THE    PLANTER 

.  .  .  Phelps's  company  is  tottering.  .  .  .  Verda  ?  ...  as 
good  as  mine. . . .  Three  years  should  finish  Las  Glorias. 
.  .  .  The  man  who  is  here  then,  .  .  .  with  money  to  buy, 
labor  to  work  them!  .  .  .  There's  a  million  in  it  for 
him.  A  million!  a  million!  a  million!"  With  each 
exclamation  his  strong  hands  shot  out,  convulsively 
grasping,  while  the  gray  blaze  waxed  and  waned  in 
recurrent  glow.  Then  as  he  recalled  the  clearing, 
burning,  planting,  long  years  of  toil  and  travail  in 
tropical  heat  and  sweltering  rains,  the  free  spending 
of  life  and  treasure  that  had  gone  into  the  making  of 
it  all,  he  burst  out  in  laughter,  loud  and  prolonged, 
utterly  unlike  his  usual  dry  chuckle.  "To  think  .  .  . 
that  they  were  doing  it  all  for  me?" 

For  some  time  thereafter  he  sat  his  horse,  hotly 
musing.  After  the  gaining,  the  spending,  and  down 
a  vista  of  golden  years,  he  saw,  red-litten  by  tropic 
sunsets,  the  chrome  walls  of  a  great  hacienda  with 
its  entourage  of  bronzed  servitors,  men  and  maids, 
thronging  flower-grown  patios,  pillared  corredors.  Also 
a  town  house  in  the  Colonia  Roma  or  other  fashion 
able  quarter  of  Ciudad  Mexico;  and  as  the  woman 
follows  the  work,  Consuela  presently  moved  and  had 
her  flower -like  being  in  both  demesnes.  Parisian 
dresses,  jewels,  equipages,  he  surrounded  her  with 
every  luxury  that  wealth  can  feed  to  the  whims  of  a 
woman,  and — significant  fact! — not  till  he  had  ran 
sacked  the  world  for  her  pleasure  did  his  fancy  pass 
on  to  Patricia.  She  .  .  .  should  marry  an  hidalgo, 
into  one  of  the  old  Mexican  families.  Her  children 

402 


THE    GIRL    PLAYS   THE    MAN'S   GAME 

would  then  enter  official  life,  .  .  .  have  a  say  in  the 
government,  .  .  .  mayhap  breed  a  president  among 
them!  And  so,  mounting  flight  on  flight,  he  saw  flow 
ing  out  of  his  own  loins — his,  the  brat  of  the  sailor's 
boarding-house — a  family  great  as  those  of  the  feudal 
baronies,  minor  kingdoms  of  his  native  Austria. 

Sweet  as  was  the  thought,  his  mind  soon  reverted 
to  the  events  of  the  day,  and  as,  retracing  them  step 
by  step,  he  saw  Consuela  again  upon  the  veranda,  a 
vision  of  white  in  a  golden  mist,  he  straightened  to  his 
full  height,  and  like  an  explosion  it  came  out  of  him: 
"Once  at  La  Luna,  God  himself  can't  take  her  from 
me!" 

Hands  clutching  at  the  stretch  of  his  great  arms, 
coarse  mouth  working,  eyes  one  gray  glare,  he  was 
not  pretty  to  look  upon,  but  it  passed  in  a  flash,  set 
tling  in  a  sheepish,  grin.  "Hell!  you're  ranting  like 
a  kid.  Off  home  with  you."  Withal,  the  purpose 
behind  the  explosion  remained  unchanged.  "Patri 
cia  must  go  over  with  an  invitation  to-morrow,"  he 
muttered,  riding  away.  "I'll  tell  her  to-night." 

He  did  not,  however;  for  as  he  dismounted  at  his 
stable,  Carruthers  and  Boulton  hailed  him  from  the 
store:  "Come  over  here,  old  Hunks,  and  treat. 
We've  had  a  pay-day,  and  intend  to  give  you  some 
action  on  your  wad."  And,  as  they  lived  up  to  the 
promise,  it  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  before 
he  got  to  bed. 

All  through  that  long  evening  he  studied  the  girl 
at  her  play  with  furtive  unease  over  the  top  of  his 

403 


THE   PLANTER 

cards.  Still  more  significant !  When — after  the  man 
ner  of  girls  who  are  not  loath  to  be  handled — she 
snatched  Boulton's  winnings  and  got  herself  thorough 
ly  tousled  in  the  following  struggle,  Hertzer  looked  on 
with  grim  tolerance,  almost  approval,  where  once  he 
would  have  thrust  between  with  a  fierce  reprimand. 
And  as  usually  happens  when  intensified  by  long 
waiting,  his  unease  developed  into  actual  nervousness 
by  the  time — the  planters  having  departed — he  was 
able  to  broach  the  subject  at  lunch  next  day. 

"Ask  her  to  visit  me?"  she  repeated.  "Why?  I 
don't  like  her." 

"But  I  do." 

His  black  brows  had  lowered  in  expectation  of  an 
outburst,  but  she  answered,  with  bitter  carelessness: 
"Oh,  that's  the  tattle  of  every  cook-house  on  this 
river!  You  needn't  frown.  I'm  not  to  be  frightened 
like  Rosa.  Besides,  I'll  go  —  to  please  myself.  I 
have  a  score  to  settle  with  Mr.  David,  and  I  couldn't 
have  found  a  better  way.  But  don't  deceive  your 
self.  You  are  not  going  to  get  anything  out  of  it. 
She's  no  Tehuana,  to  be  bought  with  a  tin  of  sardines." 
And  flinging  a  command  for  him  to  order  her  horse, 
she  whisked  into  her  bedroom  to  get  ready. 

It  chanced  that  his  stable  moso  had  not  yet  re 
turned  from  an  errand  to  the  Zacateco  village,  but, 
stepping  outside,  Hertzer  saw  the  Yaqui  eating  his 
rice  and  tortillas  in  company  with  the  other  cabos,  in 
the  shade  under  the  cook-house  wall ;  and,  after  order 
ing  him  to  bring  out  the  horse,  he  sat  down  on  the 

404 


THE   GIRL    PLAYS    THE    MAN'S    GAME 

veranda  to  watch  Patricia  away.  Pleased  with  his 
success,  he  merely  grinned  as  she  switched  the  heads 
off  some  favorite  flowers  walking  down  the  path; 
but  even  he  gaped  when,  leaning  back,  she  cut  the 
Yaqui  across  the  face  as  she  galloped  away. 

"The  little  devil!"  he  muttered.  " Grows  more 
like  me  every  day." 

The  other  cabos  were  laughing  hoarsely,  and,  always 
curious  in  matters  of  violence,  Hertzer  turned  his 
intent  gaze  on  the  Yaqui.  Even  at  that  distance  he 
could  see  the  welt  through  his  bronze.  But  without 
sign  that  he  had  felt,  or  notice  of  his  jeering  fellows, 
he  moved  back  to  his  place  and  went  on  eating. 

Calling  him  after  the  meal  was  finished,  Hertzer  set 
him  to  work  clearing  implements  and  stores  out  of  a 
hut  that  stood  a  few  paces  back  from  the  house ;  and  as 
he  carried  in  with  his  own  hands  and  arranged  a  catre 
and  bedding,  washstand,  chairs,  the  hard  speculation 
in  his  glance  dissolved  in  brooding  almost  tender. 


XXV 

THE  SHEARLING  DEVELOPS  HORNS 

AND  while  Hertzer  ransacked  his  house  and  store 
for  furs,  trophies,  zarapes,  fixing  and  fussing 
with  care  almost  womanish,  David  was  hurrying 
northward. 

Needs  not  to  detail  his  transition  from  the  Stygian 
blackness  of  the  Amarilla  to  the  electric  glare  of  a 
New  York  night.  Two  days  of  slow  jolting  on  the 
execrable  tropical  road,  twelve  hours  in  Mexico  City 
— whose  cathedral  and  shrines,  plazas  and  patios,  al 
most  beguiled  him  of  his  anxieties — two  other  days 
of  swifter  travel  on  the  Central  Mejicano  to  El  Paso, 
with  fifty  hours  of  luxury  on  a  crack  American  road, 
brought  him  through  in  just  one  week. 

Of  his  sensations  at  the  change  from  the  heated 
silence  of  the  tropics  to  the  furious  bustle  of  that  giant 
bedlam,  a  chapter  could  also  be  written.  As  next 
morning  he  set  out  to  find  Ewing's  uncle,  the  thunder 
of  elevated  and  roar  of  surface  trains,  bells,  whistles, 
clatter  and  clangor  of  vehicles  and  cars,  deafened  and 
stunned  him.  Walking  the  canyons  between  sky 
scrapers,  he  paused  often  to  observe  the  hurrying 
crowds  with  something  of  wonder  and  not  a  little  dis- 

406 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

gust.  By  contrast  with  the  brown  smiles  of  his  own 
people,  the  hard,  tight  mouths,  avid  eyes  in  ash-pale 
faces,  seemed  like  the  fitful  fancies  of  an  evil  dream; 
and  he  sighed  his  relief  escaping  from  the  mad  race 
into  the  comparative  quiet  of  a  tenth -floor  office 
which  bore  the  name  "  Ewing  &  Crowther  "  in  gold  on 
its  windows. 

Large,  roomy,  and  well-lighted,  the  offices  were 
identical  in  furnishings  with  any  of  the  hundreds 
within  a  stone's- throw;  but  to  David,  a  country  lad 
before  his  rustication  upon  the  plantation,  the  type 
writers  and  messengers,  large  force  of  busy  clerks, 
appeared  with  the  prestige  of  the  unknown,  and  he 
stood  very  quietly  among  the  customers  who  thronged 
the  counters  till  it  pleased  a  lordly  young  person  in 
buttons  to  throw  him  a  card. 

"Write  your  name  and  business." 

Resisting  a  desire  to  reach  over  and  shake  off  every 
last  button,  David  complied,  and  had  no  more  than 
scribbled  his  name  before  Buttons  relapsed  into 
depths  of  obsequiousness.  "Oh,  Mr.  Mann!  Mr. 
Ewing  is  expecting  you.  This  way,  sir." 

"Expecting  me?11  David  wondered,  but  the  solu 
tion  awaited  him  in  the  richly  furnished  inner  office. 

"So  here  you  are,  my  boy!  Glad  to  see  you."  As 
he  entered,  a  hale  old  gentleman  met  him  with  hearty 
greetings.  "Frank  wired  me  all  about  it,"  he  con 
tinued,  laughing — a  deep,  rich  laugh  that  belonged 
with  the  kindly  red  of  his  face.  "  A  fifty-dollar  cable, 
if  you  please — 'collect,'  of  course.  I  don't  mind  the 

407 


THE    PLANTER 

expense,  but  I  do  wish  the  young  villain  had  taken 
time  to  weed  out  his  'buts'  and  'ands.'  If  I'd  been 
as  careless  of  my  pennies  when  I  made  my  start- 
Well,  well,  this  is  a  careless  generation,  and  in  these 
days  of  big  things  thrift  doesn't  count  like  it  did. 
Sit  down,  sit  down,  my  boy,  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

His  own  chair  paid  tribute  of  respectful  creakings 
to  his  massive  build,  and  while  talking,  David  took 
admiring  note  of  his  bearing,  upright  almost  to  stiff 
ness  despite  his  sixty  years,  the  grizzle  of  thick  hair, 
sagacious  eyes  set  wide  of  his  thick,  strong  nose. 
Probity,  intelligence,  fearlessness,  dwelt  in  his  level 
glance.  It  was  a  face  to  inspire  confidence,  and  as 
he  listened,  nodding  at  each  count  in  the  tale,  David 
felt  his  anxiety  decrease. 

"And  now  for  your  plans?"  he  said,  when  David 
finished. 

"They  are  very  much  in  the  rough,  sir.  I  intend 
to  call  the  shareholders  together  and  contrast  the 
plantation,  as  advertised  in  Osgood's  lying  pamphlets, 
with  its  condition  as  I  found  it,  expose  his  revision 
of  my  reports,  tell  what  I  have  done,  and  so  let  them 
draw  their  own  conclusions — they  can  only  form  one." 
Very  modestly  he  added,  "  I  studied  law  for  a  couple 
of  years,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  the  evidence  justifies 
an  indictment  for  fraud." 

"  So  you  read  law,  eh  ?"  The  old  gentleman  nodded 
approval.  "  A  good  thing  to  do — if  it's  only  to  make 
one  shy  at  litigation."  Frowning  dubiously,  he  con 
tinued:  "Now,  as  regards  an  indictment,  I  don't 

408 


THE    SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

doubt  that  you  are  legally  right,  but  conviction  is 
another  thing!  It  might  prove  deucedly  expensive, 
and  I  don't  suppose  that  many  of  your  shareholders 
are  people  of  wealth.  .  .  .  Storekeepers,  farmers,  and 
school-ma'ams,  eh  ?  the  usual  country  company.  That 
lets  out  litigation,  and  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well.  You 
see,  even  if  Osgood  &  Short  appear  openly  as  part 
ners  in  the  charter  of  the  labor  company,  it  would 
still  be  impossible  to  make  an  alien  company,  doing 
business  in  a  foreign  land,  produce  its  papers  in  an 
American  court.  Frank  told  you  that  I  was  interested 
in  rubber.  .  .  .  Well,  I  had  my  lawyers  look  into  the 
Rubero  fraud — I  owned  a  few  shares  in  that,  you 
know — and  if  there'd  been  just  a  fighting  chance  to 
convict  the  scoundrels  I'd  have  spent  a  hundred 
thousand  to  do  it.  But  for  that  very  reason  there 
wasn't.  Now,  with  your  rascals,  the  case  is  slightly 
different.  I  have  done  business  with  them  in  the 
past — investments,  and  so  forth;  and  as  I  understand 
it,  they  run  a  country  banking  business  a  little  bit 
on  the  Shylock,  but  respectable  as  such  things  go; 
and,  what's  more  to  our  point,  very  profitable.  Like 
every  one  else,  they  went  into  rubber  as  a  legitimate 
speculation,  but  now  intend  to  kill  the  goose  to  get 
at  the  egg.  If  they  were  New-Yorkers  we  might  as 
well  quit;  they'd  put  the  thing  through  on  their  gall. 
But  a  certain  amount  of  reputation  is  necessary  for 
your  country  Shylock,  and  their  action  depends  alto 
gether  upon  whether  the  expected  profit  would  exceed 
the  damage  accruing  from  exposure.  Coming  to  the 

"  409 


THE    PLANTER 

point,  we  have  simply  to  get  in  and  beat  them  at 
the  good  old  American  game  of  bluff." 

"Wef"  David  questioned.  "You  surely  don't 
imagine  that  I  expect  you  to  waste  valuable  time  on 
my  affairs?"  He  was  going  on  with  thanks  for  the 
kindly  advice,  when  the  old  fellow  burst  in: 

"There's  your  New  Englander,  just  as  unwilling  to 
take  as  to  give  something  for  nothing!  Your  affairs, 
indeed!  And  this  to  me,  who  was  losing  good  money 
in  rubber  while  you  were  still  at  school!  The  whole 
problem,  my  dear  boy,  centres  on  this  little  experi 
ment  of  yours  in  labor,  and  do  you  think  that  I  am 
going  to  stand  by  and  see  it  fail  for  lack  of  help — 
or  money,  if  it  should  be  needed  ?  Besides,  I  am  not 
nearly  so  disinterested  as  you  think.  After  the  ex 
posure  Verda  stock  is  bound  to  take  an  awful  slump, 
and  if  it  goes  down  to  my  price  I  shall  buy  in  some 
for  Frank.  You  see,  my  brother  left  only  about 
enough  to  finish  the  lad's  education;  but  while  I've 
always  had  it  in  mind  to  do  something  for  him,  I 
want  to  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  he'll  have  to  go  on 
and  finish  the  job  himself.  You  know  him — frank, 
lovable,  kind,  a  good  head  for  business,  but  not 
much  push.  You,  on  the  other  hand — pardon  me, 
but  it  shows  at  a  glance — need  some  one  to  apply  the 
brakes;  wherefore,  to  my  thinking,  you  would  make 
ideal  running-mates.  How  does  it  strike  you?" 

How  did  it  strike  him?  Despite  his  absorption  in 
his  work,  David  had  had  his  full  share  of  desolately 
lonely  hours.  With  Ewing's  pleasant  companionship 

410 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

to  look  forward  to,  he  would  not  have  exchanged 
places  with  the  greatest  potentate  on  earth,  but  in 
the  midst  of  his  expressions  of  thanks  came  a  sudden 
doubt. 

"But  can  he  leave  Las  Glorias?" 

"  He  will  have  to,  pretty  soon,  in  any  case,  for  the 
company  is  going  downhill  fast.  I  hold  some  of  its 
stock — a  flea-bite,  twenty  thousand  or  so — and  I 
have  thought  seriously  at  times  of  applying  for  a  re 
ceiver — -would  have,  only  that  I  might  be  suspected 
of  an  ulterior  motive.  Of  course  I  don't  wish  to 
trade  on  others'  misfortunes,  but  since  the  world  be 
gan  one  man's  loss  has  usually  meant  another's  gain. 
And  when  it  does  go  some  one  will  buy  it  in  cheap, 
and  why  not  us  ?  With  Verda  for  a  starter,  the  three 
of  us  could  form  one  company,  you  and  Frank  and  I, 
to  try  rubber  out  to  a  final  conclusion.  What  do  you 
say  ?" 

What  could  he  say  ?  During  those  weary  days  on 
the  train  despair  had  dogged  him  closely;  he  had  lost 
hope  as  he  viewed  and  reviewed  his  case,  till  little  was 
left  him  but  a  set  purpose  to  damage  the  rascally 
promoters  to  the  extent  of  his  means.  But  now 
not  only  reassurance  but  fortune  glimmered  before 
him,  affecting  him  so  that  he  could  hardly  stammer 
his  thanks. 

"Phut!"     The  old  gentleman  blew  them  away. 

"I  intend  to  make  money  off  you.  Now  to  busi 
ness.  Thanks  to  Frank's  cable,  I  was  able  to  fix 
things  to  leave.  In  one  hour  a  train  leaves  that  will 

411 


THE    PLANTER 

land  us  in  Northfield  after  dark,  a  proper  hour  for 
conspirators.  We  have  just  time  to  lunch,  and  we 
can  do  our  planning  on  the  train." 

When  the  night  train  delivered  the  two  at  North- 
field,  a  cracked  bell  was  calling  to  week-night  prayer- 
meeting,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  David  actually 
brushed  elbows  with  Mr.  Osgood  going  up-town  from 
the  station  on  the  narrow  board-walk.  It  would, 
however,  have  required  daylight  for  the  financier  to 
recognize  the  pale,  stooped  student  whom  he  had 
shipped  off  to  the  plantations  in  the  erect,  sunburned 
young  fellow  under  the  Stetson  sombrero.  Though 
he  did  turn,  it  was  Mr.  E wing's  silk  hat  and  metro 
politan  style  which  drew  his  attention,  and,  as  dark 
ness  covered  their  entry  at  the  widow's  gate,  he  passed 
on  without  suspicion  to  his  place  in  church. 

"If  he  saw  you,  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag,"  Mr. 
Ewing  commented,  as  they  passed  up  the  walk. 
"But  I  don't  think  he  did.  When  I  glanced  back  he 
was  looking  at  me." 

Again,  if  Mr.  Short — travelling,  in  a  double  sense, 
in  a  direction  that  led  away  from  the  place  of  prayer 
— had  passed  five  minutes  sooner,  he  could  not  have 
missed  the  mother's  exclamation,  "Why,  David!"  at 
the  sight  of  her  son  in  the  doorway.  But  here  luck 
served  once  more,  for  drawn  blinds  and  shut  door 
hid  both  greetings  and  ensuing  explanations  from 
his  roving  eye. 

In  her  natural  joy  Mrs.  Mann  was  disposed  to  pro- 
412 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

long  the  one  at  the  expense  of  the  other,  and  it  was 
Mr.  Ewing  who  brought  pause  to  her  flow  of  question 
and  comment.  "Come,  come,  little  mother,  you  are 
to  have  him  for  a  whole  week.  We  must  get  down 
at  once  to  work.  I  suppose  you  know  a  good  many 
stockholders?" 

Content  so  long  as  she  could  sit  with  David's  arm 
about  her,  she  ran  off  a  string  of  names  till  stopped 
by  the  old  gentleman's  exclamation:  "Deacon  Brad 
ley?  The  very  man!  Trust  a  deacon  to  keep  a 
tight  eye  on  his  earthly  treasure.  Send  for  him  at 
once." 

Hauled  out  of  meeting — where  he  had  just  de 
clared  the  said  treasure  bestowed  beyond  corruption 
by  "moth  and  rust" — the  Deacon  wrought  mightily 
to  justify  this  opinion.  An  elderly  man  whose  lantern 
jaws  formed  the  lower  horn  of  a  concave,  parchment 
face,  he  raised  hands  of  horror  at  David's  tale,  and 
five  minutes  later  might  have  been  seen  flitting  like 
a  huge,  dark  bat  through  the  dusk  of  the  town,  coat- 
tails  flapping  in  his  nervous  haste.  In  twenty  min 
utes  he  rounded  up  and  herded  a  dozen  resident 
shareholders  into  Mrs.  Mann's  back  parlor,  and  about 
the  time  that  Mr.  Osgood  rose  to  address  the  prayer- 
meeting,  these  also  had  received  enlightenment  on 
matters  not  included  in  the  banker's  modest  testi 
mony. 

Of  that  long,  lean,  hard-headed  type  produced  by 
the  gruelling  of  Puritan  stock  in  the  hard,  commercial 
struggle  for  existence,  they  listened  either  in  dark 


THE    PLANTER 

silence  to  David's  statement,  or  interposed,  at  most, 
single  laconic  remarks. 

"  If  we  only  had  the  price  at  which  they  let  them 
selves  the  contracts!"  Mr.  Ewing  looked  around 
when  David  finished.  "Surely  you  must  have  an 
auditing  committee?" 

As  aforesaid,  the  Deacon's  face  resembled  nothing 
so  much  as  an  old-fashioned  horn  lantern,  and  it  lit 
up  a  full  candle-power  at  the  question.  "I'm  the 
chairman."  Shaving  his  lean  chops  with  a  medita 
tive  forefinger,  he  went  on:  "Not  that  we  did  much. 
You  see,  I  was  that  sure  of  Osgood,  I  never  more'n 
glanced  at  the  books,  an*  the  others  left  it  all  to  me. 
I'd  chance  in  once  in  a  while,  an'  that  was  about  all 
there  was  to  it.  But  about  them  contrac's.  Seem' 
as  it  was  a  new  departure,  the  figgers  kinder  stuck  in 
my  mind — an  even  thousand  a  month,  if  I  remember 
rightly." 

"A  thousand  a  month!"  David  whistled.  "  Exact 
ly  double  my  allowance." 

"Yes?"  The  Deacon  looked  his  surprise.  "As 
much  as  that?  Now  I  remember  noticing  an  in 
crease,  but  he  explained  that  the  expense  grew  with 
the  plantation,  an'  would  all  come  back  in  larger 
profits."  With  a  touch  of  dry  humor  he  added, 
"He  didn't  say  to  whom." 

"And  the  stock-book?"  Mr.  Ewing  pursued.  "Do 
you  know  how  many  shares  stand  in  his  and  Short's 
name?" 

"Never  thought  of  lookin'  inter  that.  But  I  kin 
414 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

find  out  when  I  go  round  to  bid  them  to  the  meetin' 
to-morrow.  He's  that  used  to  havin'  me  pottering 
round  the  books  he'll  never  suspect." 

"Well,  find  out  if  you  can,  though  I  feel  certain 
they  don't  own  a  share.  Trust  a  rat  to  leave  a  sink 
ing  ship — especially  if  she's  been  scuttled  by  his  own 
sharp  teeth.  And  you  are  certain  that  you  can  get 
them  to  come  to  your  house?" 

This  time  the  candle  leaped  into  a  sudden  flare  in 
the  Deacon's  lantern.  "Sure,  for  they  often  drop 
in  to  pick  a  bone  with  me.  I'll  have  'em  there  at 
eight.  An*  now  we'll  have  to  hurry  out  an'  call  the 
others  for  seven." 

As,  unaware  of  these  preparations  on  his  behalf, 
Mr.  Osgood  took  his  way  home  from  meeting,  the 
Deacon  and  others  passed  him  hurrying  up  the  street 
— some  on  their  way  to  spread  a  quiet  call  through 
the  town,  others  to  hitch  steady  nags  to  old  buggies 
and  rattle  through  miles  of  black  night  to  inject 
financial  nightmares  into  the  sleep  of  tired  farmers. 
What  time  the  financier  turned  over  after  his  beau 
ty  sleep,  the  majority  of  Verda  stockholders  were 
pledged  to  meet  at  the  Deacon's  house  the  following 
night. 

And  they  came.  Long  before  the  appointed  hour, 
a  big  room  which  had  once  served  for  a  store  was 
filled  to  overflowing  with  small  business  men  of  the 
town,  farmers  and  hired  hands,  thrifty  fellows  who, 
like  their  employers,  sat  very  straight  and  stiff  on 
improvised  benches,  perspiringly  aware  of  the  creased 


THE    PLANTER 

high  boots  which  protruded  from  wrinkled  trousers. 
In  one  corner  a  knot  of  country  school-teachers  sat 
on  the  Deacon's  horse-hair  chairs,  men  and  women 
whose  threadbare  suits,  dresses  of  cheap  material, 
alike  testified  to  the  inadequacy  of  the  pittances  from 
which  they  had  wrung  their  savings.  The  saw-mills, 
too,  had  contributed  a  quota,  a  boss-sawyer  and  sev 
eral  rough  fellows  whose  muscles  and  raw  joints 
punched  knobs  and  bunches  in  their  cheap  store 
suits.  A  blacksmith,  wagon-maker,  two  grocers, 
with  a  score  or  so  of  mechanics,  added  a  leaven  from 
the  smaller  trades.  "Butcher,  baker,  candlestick- 
maker,"  they  were  all  there,  the  little  people  upon 
whom  the  promoter  battens,  and  of  their  number  the 
most  pitiable,  the  one  upon  which  they  seemed  to 
centre,  was  a  middle-aged  woman  in  fusty  black,  a 
widow  who  took  in  washing. 

"The  inevitable  widow!"  Mr.  Ewing  whispered,  as 
he  and  David  looked  in  at  the  door.  "She's always 
in  evidence  at  every  funeral.  Look  at  her  flustered 
face!  Couldn't  he  have  spared  her  mite?  How 
quiet  they  are!  And  it  isn't  because  they  don't  feel. 
See  the  sweat  starting  all  over  that  old  fellow's  face ! 
His  little  bit  in  Verda  represents  the  expenditure  of 
more  energy  than  gains  a  million  on  Wall  Street. 
And  those  poor  girls — school-ma'ams,  I  take  it,  by 
their  faded  gentility.  Tut,  tut!  Blind  sheep  for  the 
shearers,  sir,  poor,  blind  sheep!  And  of  such  as  these 
are  the  thousands  who  are  being  shorn  by  rubber 
promoters  throughout  the  land." 

416 


THE    SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

Even  their  entrance  caused  only  the  slightest  of 
stirs,  a  rustle  such  as  attends  the  ascension  of  a 
minister  to  the  pulpit.  During  the  election  of  a 
chairman,  and  throughout  David's  long  statement, 
they  observed  the  decorum  natural  in  those  who 
come  together  but  seldom  and  that  principally  at 
church,  and  when  he  closed  their  comments  were 
passed  in  husky  whispers.  Indeed,  but  for  their 
harassed,  uneasy  looks,  troubled  stares,  occasional 
uneasy  coughing,  they  might  have  been  deemed  un 
concerned. 

Bolder  and  more  loquacious — perhaps  by  reason 
of  much  chaffering  in  his  trade — a  cattle-dealer  was 
the  first  to  find  his  voice.  "So  you  didn't  find  no 
three  hundred  thousand  trees,  sir?" 

"Less  than  fifty  thousand,"  David  answered. 
"Where  there  should  have  been  a  thousand  acres 
of  plantation,  I  found  about  a  hundred  that  had  sur 
vived  the  neglect  of  two  seasons." 

"And  there's  nothing  else  behind  our  stock?" 

"Just  that  and  the  five  hundred  acres  I  replanted 
last  rains." 

A  hard  sigh  greeted  the  answer,  harsh  suspiration 
which,  escaping  the  guard  of  set  teeth,  conveyed 
bitterness  of  disappointment  more  eloquently  than 
cries  and  lamentations.  Again  the  cattleman  broke 
a  silence  of  consternation:  "Then  what's  the  pros 
pects?" 

And  while  they  leaned  forward  taking  the  words 
from  his  mouth,  David  told — four  years  before  the 


THE    PLANTER 

oldest  rubber  could  be  tapped;  ten  more  before  the 
replantings  would  come  to  bearing.  Under  careful 
management,  the  capital  invested  might  be  returned 
in  from  twelve  to  fifteen  years — if  the  yield  bore  out 
theories  and  prices  maintained  ?  In  the  mean  time — 
instalment  payments  till  the  stock  was  all  paid  up; 
whereafter  it  might  be  necessary  to  levy  assessments 
on  shares  to  bring  the  plantation  along  to  its  full 
yield. 

"And  if  the  payments  are  not  kept  up  ?"  the 
Deacon  asked. 

"Plantation  and  investments  will  be  a  total  loss." 

Again  the  hard  sigh  went  like  a  sough  of  dry  wind 
through  the  room  breathing  of  hope  blasted  in  lives 
that  had  been,  and  were  little  more  than  a  sustained 
effort  to  wring  from  the  insufficient  present  a  scant 
provision  for  the  decrepit  future.  To  this  one  end 
youth,  beauty,  pleasure  had  been  ruthlessly  sacrificed, 
marriage,  children,  every  human  relation  made  sub 
servient;  and  whereas  they  had  seen,  for  a  moment, 
an  easier  path  illumined  by  the  golden  promise  of 
rubber,  they  now  sat  in  darkness  pitch-black  as  that 
which  follows  the  lightning's  flash.  Their  patient, 
oxlike  pain,  bewildered  misery,  touched  David  to  the 
quick,  resolved  in  his  pitying  eyes  into  a  despairing, 
composite  wave  of  pain  which  seemed  to  ebb  and 
flow  around  the  white,  flustered  face  of  the  washer 
woman. 

"But  I  don't  understand!"  he  heard  her  meekly 
complain  to  the  cattleman.  "Mr.  Osgood  said  I'd 

418 


THE   SHEARLING   DEVELOPS    HORNS 

get  back  my  hun'red  dollars  along  with  two  or  three 
hun'red  more.     I'd  like  to  ask  him  about  it." 

"And  so  you  shall,  mother,"  the  man  answered, 
with  rough  kindness.  "He'll  be  here  soon." 

The  banker  was,  indeed,  even  then  doffing  his 
overcoat  in  another  room,  for  it  had  pleased  the  Fates 
to  select  this  ripe  moment  for  his  entrance.  Brought, 
or  rather  shoved  in  by  the  Deacon  as  he  made  to  draw 
back  at  the  door,  he  sustained  the  glower  of  angry 
eyes  till  his  glance  fell  on  David;  then  a  sick,  green 
pallor  wiped  out  a  first  faint  flush  of  surprise.  Mur 
muring  something  about  "intrusion,"  he  tried  again 
to  withdraw — would  have  forced  by  and  out  if  the 
cattleman  had  not  reinforced  the  Deacon. 

"No,  you  don't,  mister,  till  you've  answered  this 
woman's  question." 

As,  thus  cut  off,  the  banker  stood,  pale  eyes  blink 
ing,  dull  red  alternating  with  green  pallors  on  his 
face,  there  recurred  suddenly  to  David  a  vivid 
memory  of  the  iguana  at  bay  between  himself  and 
Consuela,  and  he  experienced  a  repulsion  strong  as 
that  excited  by  the  chameleon  changes  of  the  ugly 
creature.  Submerging  bitter  memories  of  the  anxie 
ties,  annoyances,  trouble,  which  this  man  had  caused 
him  personally,  came  a  feeling  of  wonder  that  such 
a  pitiable  coward  should  have  had  power  to  ruin 
not  only  these,  his  fellows,  but  also  a  brown  people 
in  the  far  tropics  not  one  of  whom  he  had  ever  seen. 
Then  this  faded  as  the  cattleman  spoke. 

"Now,  mother!" 

419 


THE    PLANTER 

"  'Twas  only  that  Mr.  Mann  said  I  mightn't  get 
back  the  money  that  took  me  five  years  to  save,  an' 
I  just  couldn't  believe  that  Mr.  Osgood,  bein'  a 
church-member,  could  rob  a  lone  woman." 

Out  of  the  mouth  of  this,  the  least  of  his  victims, 
had  come  his  arraignment,  and  the  faint  hope  on  her 
face,  last  pale  ray  of  a  former  faith,  must  have  stabbed 
the  man  to  his  black  heart,  for  he  turned  in  preference 
from  her  mute  distress  to  the  cattleman's  red  scorn. 
"  Then  if  you  won't  answer  her,  perhaps  you  can  tell 
something  about  them  contrac's?" 

"Yes!     Yes!     Speak  up!     Explain,  if  you  can!" 

Finding  its  voice  at  last,  the  meeting  gave  tongue 
hoarsely,  the  louder  because  of  its  previous  sup 
pression.  In  their  corner  the  school-teachers  buzzed 
excitedly,  emphasizing  indignation  by  vigorous  nod- 
dings.  Farmers,  business  men,  mill  -  hands,  trades 
men  were  on  their  feet  exclaiming,  gesticulating  with 
clenched  fists  as  they  voiced  protest  or  denunciation. 
Once  passion  be  loosed  by  an  over-governed  people, 
it  becomes  more  dangerous  because  more  irresponsible 
than  a  lawless  community  of  which  each  unit  is  a 
law  unto  and  acts  for  itself;  and  during  a  few  minutes 
of  wild  disorder  it  seemed  as  though  the  banker 
would  have  no  chance  either  for  justification  or  to 
plead  in  court.  Sensing  the  physical  menace,  he 
shrank  and  shook  as  with  an  ague  while  his  mouth 
opened  and  shut,  soundlessly,  like  that  of  a  breathing 
fish,  in  a  breathless  struggle  for  words.  But  no 
sound  issued  in  the  midst  of  his  agony. 

420 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS   HORNS 

The  cattleman  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  shoulder  of 
Short,  ushered  in  just  then  by  the  Deacon. 

"Perhaps  this  gentleman  will  answer  for  you!" 

Brutally  aggressive  as  his  partner  was  timid,  Short 
angrily  shook  off  the  hand,  then  glanced  defiantly 
around,  gross  head  lowered  and  drawn  in  to  his  heavy 
shoulders  in  a  manner  eminently  suggestive  of  a  bull 
at  bay.  "Sneak  meeting,  eh?"  His  snarl  broke  on 
a  sudden  silence.  "Just  like  you,  Bradley,  you  cant 
ing  old  fraud!  Come  and  pick  a  bone  with  you,  eh? 
I  will,  too,  before  we  finish — pick  your  old  bones  so 
clean  there  won't  be  a  meal  left  for  a  starveling  crow. 
What  are  you  doing  here,  Osgood?  Come  along 
home."  But  as  he  turned  to  go  the  cattleman  took 
him  from  behind,  and  with  a  movement  too  sudden 
for  resistance,  forced  him  down  on  a  chair. 

"You  sit  there!" 

"Yes,  sit  there!"  As,  swelling  with  fury,  he  made 
to  rise,  a  big  hand  gripped  his  shoulder  with  force 
that  hurt  the  bone,  and  glaring  round  he  came  face 
to  face  with  the  boss-sawyer,  a  giant  in  stature  and 
stockily  built.  To  right  and  left  farmers  and  mill- 
hands  were  rising,  fists  clenched,  and  their  mutter 
of  anger  went  like  a  growl  through  the  room.  Set 
tling  back  again,  he  scowled  at  David,  who  began 
to  speak : 

"Sneak  meeting  or  not,  Mr.  Short,  now  that  you 
are  here,  perhaps  you'll  answer  a  few  questions.  How 
much  Verda  stock  do  you  own?" 

The  scowl  gave  place  to  an  ugly  sneer.  "You 
421 


THE    PLANTER 

haven't  got  your  gall  with  you,  have  you?  D'you 
think  I've  nothing  better  to  do  than  answer  silly 
questions  from  a  discharged  employe"?  You're  not 
even  a  stockholder." 

"If  you  won't  answer — "  .  David  was  going  quiet 
ly  on  when  the  Deacon  broke  in : 

"I  will.  He  don't  own  none — neither  him  nor 
Osgood.  Though  their  names  still  stand  in  the  books, 
I  found  the  numbers  of  their  shares  credited  to  new 
buyers."  With  a  waspish  glance  at  Short,  he  added: 
"Pick  my  bones,  will  you?  Mr.  Chairman,  I  move 
their  removal  from  office." 

It  was  done  in  a  heat — one  minute  for  the  removal, 
a  second  to  elect  two  of  the  business  men  in  their 
place,  a  third  saw  David  reinstated,  in  the  glow  of 
which  hot  moment  he  was  carried  back  a  week  to 
Ewing's  dining-room,  felt  small  fingers  softly  caress 
ing  his  face,  heard  Consuela's  murmured  comfort, 
"Soon  you  will  come  back,  triumphant  and  rein 
stated."  If  mental  telepathy  had  only  been  upon 
a  practical  basis,  with  what  joy  he  would  have 
flashed  her  the  news!  Instead,  he  indulged  himself 
with  a  picture  of  her,  reading  or  with  graceful  head 
bowed  over  a  bit  of  sewing  in  the  soft  gloom  of  the 
Las  Glorias  dining-room — a  picture  that  approached 
the  reality  only  in  the  sewing;  for  at  that  moment 
she  was  sitting  in  the  plantation-house  at  La  Luna, 
watching  Hertzer  and  Patricia  at  play  with  Carruthers. 

From  the  moment's  indulgence,  David  returned  to 
the  business  in  hand.  "And  now,  sir" — he  turned 

422 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

from  Short  to  Osgood — "I  should  like  to  ask  how 
you  came  to  let  out  the  work  of  the  plantation  at 
twice  the  present  cost?" 

Though  still  pale  and  shaky,  the  banker  had  re 
covered  his  voice,  and,  reassured  by  his  partner's 
presence,  he  even  attempted  a  stiff  answer.  "I 
recognize  neither  the  legality  of  this  meeting  nor 
your  right  to  question.  The  by-laws  provide — -" 

"Yes,  we  know  all  about  them,"  David  quietly  in 
terrupted.  "As  for  my  right,  I  am  voting  a  full 
third  of  Verda  stock  by  proxy  for  my  mother.  Are 
you  a  partner  in  the  Amarilla  Labor  Company?" 

"No,  sir,  I  am  not." 

"So  you  will  answer — when  it  suits?"  While  a 
sudden  blinking  marked  the  other's  realization  of  his 
mistake,  he  went  on:  "What  about  subsidiary  com 
panies?  Have  you  an  interest  in  any  company  to 
which  the  Amarilla  may  have  sublet  contracts?  .  .  . 
Ah,  now  you  are  silent!" 

"Double  papers,  as  I  thought,"  Mr.  Ewing  mur 
mured. 

"Look  a-here!"  His  face  livid  with  anger  at  his 
partner's  mistake,  Short  sprang  up.  "  We've  already 
told  you  twice  that  we  don't  recognize  this  meeting 
and  won't  answer  questions.  Come  on,  Osgood,  we 
ain't  to  be  bluffed  any  more.  There'll  be  a  battery 
charge  and  heavy  damages  for  the  man  that  inter 
feres."  But,  stopping  dead,  he  glared  at  the  town 
constable,  who  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door.  Mop 
ping  his  brow,  he  swung  round  again  on  David.  "  You 

423 


THE    PLANTER 

can't  do  that.  A  civil  suit,  perhaps,  though  a  precious 
lot  of  good  it  would  do  you.  But  this  is  criminal. 
You  haven't  anything  to  go  on — " 

"The  judge  who  issued  the  warrant  thought  differ 
ently." 

At  the  cold  interruption  he  blinked,  but  went 
on:  "What's  the  use?  You  haven't  money  enough 
to—" 

"It  will  be  forthcoming."  Though  he  had  sat 
quietly  by  David's  side  through  all,  nothing  had 
escaped  Mr.  Ewing.  The  banker's  cowardice,  anger, 
and  indignation  which  wiped  out  the  patient  dis 
tress  of  his  victims,  Short's  defiance,  every  act  and 
emotion,  set  its  reflection  upon  his  fine  face,  and  his 
eyes,  now  looking  at  Short,  glittered  like  points  of 
steel.  "It  will  be  forthcoming,  sir." 

"Hell!     Who  are  you?" 

"You  know  me,  I  believe." 

Handing  his  card,  the  old  gentleman  assiduously 
polished  his  pince-nez,  while,  after  reading  it  with  a 
low  whistle,  Short  passed  the  card  on  to  his  partner. 
"Yes,  we've  done  business  with  your  firm.  Glad  to 
meet  you,  sir." 

Overlooking  the  proffered  hand,  Mr.  Ewing  con 
tinued:  "Enough,  I  trust,  for  you  to  know  that  I 
usually  keep  my  word.  .  .  .  Then  let  me  assure  you 
that  if  you  do  not  instantly  convey  all  of  your  title 
and  interest  in  the  Amarilla  or  other  labor  corpora 
tion  back  to  the  Verda  Company,  this  warrant  will 
be  served." 

424 


THE   SHEARLING   DEVELOPS    HORNS 

"It  will,  will  it?"  Enraged  by  the  snub,  Short 
broke  out  in  a  defiant  snarl.  "Well,  I  guess  you're 
good  for  damages.  Go  right  ahead." 

Quiet,  as  aforesaid,  so  far,  the  old  gentleman  now 
came  to  his  feet,  choleric  with  indignation.  "  You'll 
talk  back,  you  scoundrel!  Serve  it  we  will,  but, 
though  to-morrow  will  see  you  gazetted  in  every 
paper  throughout  the  United  States  for  the  rogues 
you  are,  don't  harbor  any  illusions  about  damages. 
I'll  furnish  funds — enough  to  law  you  to  a  finish 
both  here  and  in  the  Mexican  courts  —  but  suit 
will  be  entered  on  behalf  of  the  Verda  stockhold 
ers."  Menacing  him  with  the  pince-nez,  he  con 
cluded,  "  You  have  five  minutes  to  come  to  a  de 
cision." 

For  the  moment  Short  flinched,  daunted  by  the 
suddenness  of  it ;  and  while  he  stood,  trembling  with 
intense  desire  but  afraid  to  utter  a  second  defiance, 
his  partner  leaned  to  his  ear,  and  he  did  not  object 
when,  after  a  minute  of  nervous  whispering,  the  latter 
asked  for  a  few  minutes'  private  consultation  in  an 
other  room.  Thoroughly  cowed  himself,  the  weaker 
rascal  did  not  hesitate  to  add  that  the  officer  could 
stand  at  the  door,  a  suggestion  that  provoked  the 
old  gentleman's  comment. 

"We've  bluffed  them!"  he  said,  as  the  door  closed 
on  the  three.  "  Even  if  that  gross  brute  were  willing, 
Osgood  could  never  be  got  to  face  exposure.  We've 
won,  sir;  we've  won!  .  .  .  Hertzer?"  he  replied  to 
David's  surmise.  "Hum!  I  don't  think  he'll  press 

425 


THE    PLANTER 

his  share  of  the  contract  when  he  finds  out  who  are 
his  partners.     Hullo,  here's  Osgood  already!" 

It  had,  indeed,  required  only  a  few  seconds  of  cool 
reflection  to  bring  Short  around.  Removed  from  the 
heat  of  conflict  which  made  surrender  next  to  im 
possible  for  his  brutally  obstinate  nature,  he  gave 
immediate  assent  to  Mr.  Osgood's  pallid  counsel. 
"Yes,  it's  all  off.  Who'd  have  thought  the  young 
devil  could  have  got  such  solid  backing  ?  It's  lucky 
we  didn't  forward  Hertzer  that  second  thousand — 
and  another  month  would  have  seen  us  stuck  for  at 
least  five  more.  You  go  in,  and  if  there's  any  papers 
to  sign  send  them  out  here,  for  I'm  damned  if  I  face 
that  congregation  of  fools  again." 

Thus  it  was  that  the  banker  appeared  alone.  On 
his  entrance  the  hot  buzz  of  conversation  ceased,  and 
while  his  thin  fingers  weaved  in  and  out  in  the  old, 
uncanny  fashion,  he  made  his  shifty  surrender. 
While  they  were  not  prepared  to  admit  wrong-doing, 
or  allow  that  any  official  act  of  theirs  would  furnish 
grounds  for  even  a  civil  action,  in  order  to  avoid  vex 
atious  litigation  and  further  the  best  interests  of  the 
company  whose  good  they  had  had  always  at  heart, 
they  were  willing  to  make  any  reasonable  concession. 

"Which  means  immunity  from  prosecution,"  the 
old  man  whispered. 

"Well,  let  'em  have  it."  The  Deacon,  who  caught 
the  whisper,  leaned  across  three  of  his  neighbors  to 
answer.  "Prosecuted  or  not,  they  ain't  agoing  to 
do  business  in  this  town  any  more." 

426 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS   HORNS 

As,  two  days  later,  David  entered  his  mother's 
front  parlor,  Mr.  Ewing  pushed  back  from  the  table, 
which  was  littered  with  papers,  and  fell  to  fanning 
himself. 

"  Warm  ?"  he  repeated.  "  I  have  just  finished  with 
the  Deacon,  the  last  and  toughest  of  the  lot.  Look 
ing  into  that  room  the  other  night,  who  would  have 
thought  such  perfectly  miserable  persons  could  be 
changed  into  a  rabid  mob  of  speculators  ?  They  were 
quite  canny  in  the  beginning,  but  after  it  leaked  out 
that  I  had  paid  the  washerwoman  in  full  for  her 
shares" — he  threw  up  his  hands  in  comical  despair — 
"  Verda  went  soaring.  They  came  at  me  like  hun 
gry  wolves,  mortgages,  sheriff's  sales,  funerals — the 
variety  and  complexion  of  trouble  spread  out  for  my 
inspection  the  last  two  days  is  enough  to  make  a  man 
a  pessimist  for  life.  Of  them  all,  only  one  seemed  to 
think  forty  per  cent,  little  enough  for  my  risk  and  a 
five  years'  wait,  and  he,  it  seems,  is  not  considered 
quite  sane  through  the  town.  The  Deacon  thought  a 
hundred  and  eight  would  be  about  the  right  price  for 
his,  and  held  out  till  he  found  that  I  really  intended 
to  close  my  books.  Well,  it's  human  nature,  I  sup 
pose,  and  it  is  all  over  now.  Lock,  stock,  and  barrel, 
David,  Verda  now  belongs  to  us.  And  how  goes  your 
business?  Mamma  still  obdurate?" 

David's  gloomy  nod  testified  to  the  futility  of  a 
day's  struggle  against  his  mother's  religious  prej 
udice.  "  When  I  once  let  out  that  she  was  a  Catho 
lic — "  His  eyebrows  said  the  rest. 

427 


THE    PLANTER 

"Hum!"  the  old  gentleman  coughed.  "Was  it— 
er — necessary?" 

"She  asked  me  outright,  sir." 

"Of  course,  of  course!     What  have  you  there?" 

"  Photos— pictures  of  her.  I  got  them  by  this 
afternoon's  mail,  and  I'm  going  in  now  to  prove  to 
mother  that  she  really  doesn't  wear  a  blanket.  .  .  . 
Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,  sir." 

Laying  the  series  Mrs.  Ewing  had  taken  before  him, 
the  old  gentleman  looked  long  and  earnestly  before 
he  spoke.  "Well,  well,  you  lucky  fellow!  And  she 
nursed  you  through  yellow  -  fever  ?  I  can  well  be 
lieve  it.  Of  course  you  told  your  mother?" 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,  I  didn't,  for  I  knew  she'd 
worry  dreadfully." 

"  What  of  it  ?"  He  laughed  his  rich  laugh.  "  A  bit 
of  worry  will  do  her  good — supply  a  change  of 
thought.  With  women  of  her  age  an  opinion  quick 
ly  crystallizes  into  a  habit,  and  if  she's  been  arguing 
against  you  all  morning,  she'll  probably  go  on  doing 
it  till  doomsday."  Gathering  up  the  pictures,  he 
went  on:  "A  touch  of  sex-jealousy  usually  figures  in 
the  objections  of  the  best  of  mothers,  and  as  they  are 
chary  of  exhibiting  it  to  strangers,  argument  from 
an  outsider  is  generally  more  effective.  So  you'd 
better  go  for  a  walk  while  I  try  my  luck.  .  .  .  No, 
thanks!  Now — off  with  you." 

Having  thrust  David  with  kindly  force  out  of  the 
front  door,  the  old  gentleman  repaired  at  once  to  the 
back  parlor,  where  Mrs.  Mann  sat  with  her  Bible. 

428 


HIE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS   HORNS 

The  touch  of  obstinacy  in  the  face  of  mute  misery 
she  turned  up  to  him  told  very  plainly  that  she  was 
killing  two  birds  with  one  stone — fortifying  her  posi 
tion  while  drawing  comfort  from  the  Scriptures — but, 
undismayed,  he  introduced  the  subject,  then  sat 
shuffling  Consuela's  pictures,  while  she  descanted  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  upon  David's  incredible  folly. 

"Photographs?"  she  asked,  at  last,  her  curiosity 
stimulated  by  his  frequent  glances.  "May  I?  .  .  . 
What  a  beautiful  face!"  And  as,  with  natural  in 
tuitions  which  had  been  sharpened  by  long  experience, 
he  read  meanings  out  of  the  wide-placing,  open  truth 
of  the  eyes,  fine  chiselling  of  the  features,  tender 
delicacy  of  mouth  and  chin,  she  eagerly  affirmed  his 
findings.  "How  proud  you  must  be  of  her!  Your 
daughter,  is  it — or  perhaps  the  niece  you  mentioned 
yesterday?" 

"No  relation  of  mine,  madam."  He  seized  the 
opportunity.  "But  she  may  be  of  yours.  This  is 
the  young  lady  who  nursed  David  through  yellow- 
fever." 

"Yellow -fever?"  Collapsing  in  her  chair,  she 
turned  up  a  blanched  face  of  horror.  "  Yellow- 
fever •?" 

"There,  there!"  Rather  alarmed  himself,  he  has 
tened  to  reassure  her.  "  It  is  all  over.  He's  immune 
— can  never  take  it  again."  Noting  her  returning 
color,  he  continued:  "But  didn't  he  tell  you?  .  »  . 
Well,  have  it  he  did,  and  but  for  the  devoted  courage 
of  this  young  lady  you  would  now  be  childless." 

429 


THE   PLANTER 

As  he  ran  on  giving  the  particulars  of  David's  ill 
ness,  omitting  no  fact  that  would  raise  Consuela  in 
her  estimation,  tears  streamed  from  her  eyes,  and 
when  he  finished  she  burst  out:  "Oh,  how  can  I 
thank  her?  I  shall  always  remember  her  in  my 
prayers,  and — " 

"Be  kind  to  her  when  David  brings  her  home?" 
he  suggested,  smiling.  As  flustered  doubt  repos 
sessed  her,  he  sternly  added,  "Or  doesn't  a  mother's 
gratitude  for  the  life  of  a  son  call  for  that?" 

"Oh,  it  does!  It  does!"  she  cried,  in  distress. 
"But— she  is  a  Catholic?" 

Understanding  as  he  did  the  narrowness  of  the 
life  that  had  formed  her,  pity  made  it  difficult  for 
him  to  simulate  offended  gravity,  but  he  did  his  best. 
"Madam,  I  am  a  Catholic." 

"You?" 

Noting  the  touch  of  reprobation  in  her  surprise,  he 
went  on,  with  real  sternness:  "Three  days,  I  know, 
is  rather  a  short  time  to  form  an  opinion,  but  I 
trust  you  have  seen  nothing  in  me  that  would 
cause  you  to  advocate  my  active  candidacy  for 
hell?" 

It  was  a  good  lead.  Day  and  night,  for  those  three 
days,  had  David  sung  the  old  gentleman's  praises. 
In  that  very  room  the  washerwoman  had  declaimed 
them  over  a  hospitable  cup  of  tea.  Not  to  mention 
the  saving  of  her  own  private  fortune,  she  had  seen  a 
black  cloud  of  despair  lifted  from  several  score  of 
lives,  and,  rushing  in  upon  her  at  once,  the  memory 

430 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

of  these  things  burst  the  shackles  which  fettered  her 
soul. 

"Oh,  you  good  man!"  she  cried.  "How  small  I 
must  seem  in  your  eyes!  How  little  and  dreadfully 
narrow!  But  see,  I  will  do  anything  that  you  ask — 
write  to  her  at  once — my  consent — grateful,  loving 
thanks.  I'll  do  it  at  once — if  you  will  please  find 
David." 

As  David  was  even  then  pacing  impatiently  up  and 
down  the  garden  walk,  he  was  easily  found.  Coming 
in  quietly  upon  her  at  her  writing,  he  peeped  over 
her  shoulder.  Then  murmuring,  "That's  famous, 
mother,  clear;  keep  right  on,"  he  slid  an  arm  around 
her  and  looked  on  while  the  tide  of  motherly  grati 
tude  poured  in  unstinted  stream  from  her  pen.  And 
glancing  in  as  he  went  by  to  his  room,  Mr.  Ewing 
muttered,  "A  pretty  finish  to  a  good  day's  work." 

About  the  time  the  letter,  with  David's  enclosure, 
was  sealed,  the  old  gentleman  reappeared  at  the  door, 
suit-case  in  hand.  "We  business  men  are  ridden  by 
perpetual  devils  of  haste,"  he  answered  Mrs.  Mann's 
protest.  "  I  must  catch  the  night  train.  David  real 
ly  ought  to  go  with  me,  but  you  have  been  such  a 
good  little  mother,  we'll  just  have  to  let  him  stay 
out  the  week.  Yes,  yes,  it's  a  short  time,  but  then 
you'll  have  him  for  three  months  this  summer  when 
he  brings  you  a  lovely  daughter.  Now,  if  your  letter 
is  ready,  I'll  post  it  in  New  York  to-night  and  gain  a 
mail." 

On  the  way  to  the  station  he  explained  his  plans 


THE   PLANTER 

for  the  reorganization  of  Verda.  "  I  shall  give  Frank 
only  half  of  my  stock,  which  will  give  him,  you, 
and  me  an  equal  interest  in  the  plantation.  Buying 
at  sixty,  I  can  afford  to  put  up  forty  thousand,  the 
difference  between  that  and  par  value,  to  carry  the 
work  to  completion,  and  I'm  convinced  that  you'll 
have  made  the  place  self-supporting  long  before  the 
money  is  exhausted.  As  regards  Las  Glorias,  it  can 
probably  be  bought  in  at  a  price  that  will  enable  you 
and  Frank  to  come  in  as  working  partners,  or,  if 
extra  money  is  needed,  I  can  lend  it  on  your  Verda 
stock." 

Worked  out  with  a  careful  eye  to  David's  stub 
born  independence,  the  plan  contained  nothing  that 
could  offend  his  sense  of  equity,  and  the  fine  old 
fellow  cut  him  off  when  he  tried  to  express  his  ob 
ligation.  "Nonsense,  nonsense,  your  stake  in  it  is 
bigger,  proportionately,  than  mine;  and  you  forget 
that  this  is  my  hobby.  I  have  made  all  the  money 
that  I  need  or  can  possibly  use,  and  I  tell  you,  sir, 
there's  small  comfort  for  the  man  who  wakes  up  in 
the  still,  dark  hours  and  looks  back  from  the  brink 
of  the  Unknown  into  which  he  must  soon  enter, 
upon  a  life  which  reads  like  a  page  in  a  business 
ledger.  The  man  who  uses  a  little  of  his  substance 
in  solving  this  problem  of  a  world  shortage  in  rub 
ber  is  in  a  fair  way  to  gain  back  to  his  natural  sleep, 
for  he  stands  next  you,  the  pioneer,  who  gives  up 
friends,  pleasure,  the  luxuries  and  benefits  of  civiliza 
tion  to  forward  a  noble  work.  I  don't  suppose  you 

432 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS   HORNS 

ever  looked  at  it  that  way,  but  it's  a  fine  thing  you 
are  doing ;  for  however  disastrous  it  may  have  proved 
to  the  individual,  this  experiment  is  bound  to  prove 
a  social  success.  Let  the  plantations  go  back  to 
jungle.  The  trees  will  still  be  there,  immense  forests 
of  our  planting,  from  which — in  the  event  of  our 
failure — Indians  will  bring  out  the  supply  of  unborn 
generations.  So  we  are  simply  partners,  my  dear  boy, 
in  a  great  enterprise,  and  let's  have  no  more  talk  of 
gratitude." 

Concealing  strong  feeling  under  a  violent  trumpet 
ing  into  his  handkerchief,  he  presently  added:  "I'll 
have  all  the  papers  ready  when  you  come  on,  so  that 
you  can  take  them  on  down  for  Frank  to  sign.  In 
the  mean  time  possess  your  soul  in  patience — for  the 
good  mother's  sake." 

With  the  papers  and  a  fat  letter  of  credit  buttoned 
over  a  high-beating  heart,  David  took  train  south 
four  days  later.  From  New  York  to  El  Paso  he 
passed  the  time  alternately  dreaming  and  planning, 
and  not  until  he  awoke  in  the  middle  of  his  first  night 
out  from  the  latter  place  did  he  realize  the  nature  of 
the  melancholy  which  had  possessed  him  during 
the  last  slow  days  at  home.  Looking  out  at  the 
scarlet  zarapes,  familiar  brown  faces  under  the  rebosas 
of  the  women  who  brought  milk,  eggs,  tortillas  and 
enchiladas  to  the  train,  he  knew  it  for  real,  old- 
fashioned  homesickness. 

Because  of  this  discovery  he  slept  no  more,  but 
433 


THE    PLANTER 

sat  propped  against  the  Pullman  window  and  watched 
while  the  train  roared  on  through  the  night,  for  the 
intermittent  fires  at  stations  strung  like  a  ruby  neck 
lace  across  the  black  breast  of  the  desert.  And  when, 
from  a  flickering  star,  a  bead  would  develop  into  a 
fire-lit  adobe  station,  he  made  a  feast  of  the  women 
crouched  over  their  clay  pots,  the  peons  in  scarlet 
and  white,  whining  beggars  who  fought  and  jostled 
with  venders  of  food,  opals,  and  lace  the  length  of  the 
train.  Until  the  velvet  east  split  into  striped  pen 
nons  of  crimson  and  black,  and  day  came  with  a  puff 
of  hot  wind  out  of  the  far  dust  of  the  desert,  he  fed 
on  that  brilliant  confusion ;  then  after  an  hour's  sleep 
awoke  to  a  pageant  of  color. 

Towns,  hamlets,  villages,  adobe  haciendas  moved 
past  his  window  in  slow  procession.  Chihuahua, 
Zacatecas,  Aguas  Calientes,  Silaoa,  smouldering  in 
purple,  rose,  umber,  and  gold,  they  passed  in  a  day 
and  night,  the  painted  cities  of  the  Plateau,  and  he 
awoke  in  the  city  of  Mexico  to  the  happy  thought, 
"Consuela  has  my  letter."  Entraining  once  more  at 
evening,  the  life,  color,  barbaric  pomp,  and  pageantry 
of  old  Mexico  passed  with  a  brazen  clangor  of  cathe 
dral  bells,  and  as  his  train  swooped  in  hawk-circles 
down  from  the  plateau  into  the  ocean  spread  of  the 
jungle,  he  raised  his  face  to  the  soft  wooing  of  the 
first  tropical  wind,  drew  such  a  breath  as  the  re 
turned  wanderer  takes  of  his  native  air.  As,  next 
morning,  he  saw  the  first  jacales  raise  graceful  peaks 
from  a  jungle  clearing,  a  big  lump  rose  in  his  throat, 

434 


THE   SHEARLING    DEVELOPS    HORNS 

and  he  felt  as  never  before  the  lure  of  the  tropics,  the 
soft  call  which  had  come  on  that  scented  wind.  The 
comely  women  in  their  doorways,  golden  girls  on  their 
way  to  the  river,  ollas  poised  ahead,  the  nodding 
palms,  great  sabers  that  spread  huge  arms  over  the 
lower  forest,  every  sight  and  sound  of  that  fecund 
life  presented  the  face  or  voice  of  welcome,  and  he 
realized  with  a  great  thrilling  that  he  was  come  back 
to  his  own — the  tropics  had  claimed  him  forever. 

At  Cordoba  he  met  an  old  friend,  the  conductor 
with  whom  he  had  journeyed  out  of  Vera  Cruz  just 
a  year  ago.  "Been  running  on  this  branch  almost 
ever  sence,"  he  said,  shaking  hands.  "But  I've 
heard  of  you  from  folks  going  up  an'  down.  They 
tell  me  you're  doing  great  things."  And  a  subtle 
compliment  inhered  in  the  manner  in  which,  putting 
his  feet  up  on  the  opposite  seat,  he  discussed  between 
stations  the  news  of  the  hot  country  with  the  free 
masonry  of  an  equal. 

From  the  division-point  where  the  friendly  fellow 
left  him,  a  night's  run  through  the  tierra  caliente 
would  bring  David  to  his  station.  Nine  hours  from 
there  to  Carruthers',  plus  six  with  a  fresh  horse  to 
Las  Glorias,  would  put  him  with  Consuela  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  Leaping  at  the  thought,  his  pulses  ac 
celerated  thereafter  at  the  rate  of  a  beat  to  every 
kilometer,  but — he  had  omitted  the  inevitable  de 
railment.  Turning  out  at  midnight,  he  slaved  in 
muggy,  sticky  heat  by  the  light  of  a  bonfire,  poured 
out  his  sweat  and  curses  with  the  grimy  train  crew 

435 


THE    PLANTER 

for  two  long  hours  before  the  engine  consented  to  be 
led  back  to  the  track.  And  it  bolted  again  through 
the  malarial  mists  of  the  morning,  setting  an  evil 
example  to  the  baggage -car  and  one  coach,  which 
immediately  followed.  Wherefore  it  was  late  after 
noon  before  the  train  pulled  into  his  station,  the  ram 
shackle,  mildewed  village  which  had  seen  his  first 
disembarkation. 

"Hullo,  Mann!"  the  American  operator  gave  him 
hearty  greeting.  "Glad  to  see  you  back.  I  have 
news  for  you."  Indicating  the  raffle  of  brown  loafers 
that  immediately  cocked  ears  all  over  the  platform, 
he  added,  "Some  of  them  speak  English.  Come  in 
side.  .  .  .  E wing's  moso  brought  this  letter  a  couple 
of  hours  ago,"  he  continued,  after  closing  the  door. 
"He  didn't  know  much,  and  I  packed  him  off  home 
before  he  had  time  to  spread  it  around,  but  I  gath 
ered  that  there  was  particular  hell  to  pay  up-river — 
Hertzer  has  half  killed  your  mandador,  and  is  hold 
ing  Miss  Robles  a  prisoner." 

Excepting  that  it  detailed  Consuela's  efforts  to 
keep  Hertzer  in  good  humor,  told  of  her  entrance  into 
his  employment,  and  that  she  had  opened  a  school  at 
La  Luna,  the  letter  said  little  more.  "Everything 
was  going  beautifully  till  Hertzer  got  wind  of  your 
letter  yesterday,"  Ewing  wrote  in  conclusion,  " — just 
how  he  got  it,  I'll  tell  you  later.  Since  then  he  has 
held  her  a  close  prisoner.  When  I  went  over  there 
this  morning,  he  was  in  the  ugliest  humor  I  ever  saw. 
After  his  cabos  had  almost  beaten  the  life  out  of  poor 

436 


THE   SHEARLING   DEVELOPS   HORNS 

old  Magdaleno,  he  had  had  him  locked  up  in  his 
galera,  and  didn't  hesitate  to  threaten  me  with  the 
same  dose  if  I  didn't  get  off  the  place.  Believing 
that  I  could  do  more  good  alive  than  dead,  I  left, 
and  am  sending  mosos  out  up  and  down  river  to 
raise  the  white  planters  against  him.  They  are  to 
meet  at  Verda  to-morrow,  so  come  straight  there." 

High  hopes,  elation,  the  joy  of  home-coming  ut 
terly  wiped  out,  David  handed  the  letter  to  the  agent 
ere  he  turned  his  face  of  despair  to  the  wall. 

Though  lacking  a  year  or  two  of  forty,  a  grizzled 
stubble  beard  helped  the  attenuation  of  a  hard,  hot 
service  to  give  the  operator  the  appearance  of  sixty, 
and  mighty  disreputable  at  that.  Nevertheless,  a 
sound  heart  beat  behind  his  grizzly  front,  nor  had  the 
violence,  easy  death,  still  easier  living  of  the  tropics 
destroyed  his  feeling.  His  hand  dropped  kindly  on 
David's  shoulder. 

"  Easy,  my  boy,  easy  does  it.  There  ain't  a  thing 
to  show  that  he's  harmed  her.  I  reckon  you  don't 
feel  like  eating?  Then  come  right  out  to  the  stable." 

While  he  pulled  and  hauled  on  straps  and  cinches 
in  a  record  saddling,  he  explained,  "The  moso  left 
a  horse  for  you,  but  he  ain't  so  fresh,  an'  I'm  going 
to  lend  you  mine."  Backing  the  beast  out,  he  said: 
"  He  can  outrun  anything  around  here.  Kill  him  if 
you  want;  but  remember  it  won't  pay  to  have  him 
drop  half-way."  As  David  rode  away,  he  called 
after:  "Good  luck!  and  don't  forget  that  my  pistols 
are  in  the  holsters.  They  shoot  straight  at  ten- 

437 


THE    PLANTER 

score  yards."  And  as,  returning  to  the  office,  he  re 
called  David's  stern,  white  face,  he  muttered: 
"  'Twasn't  necessary  to  tell  him  to  use  'em.  If 
he's  only  quick  enough  ?  With  Hertzer,  it's  an  even 
chance  between  coroner  and  undertaker." 

His  caution  against  over-riding,  also,  was  scarcely 
necessary;  for,  though  David  rode  in  a  nightmare, 
his  practical  sense  exercised  automatic  control  over 
his  actions.  Eleven  hours  easy  going  to  La  Luna 
would  require  seven  of  killing  riding,  and  feeling 
rather  than  remembering  this,  he  restrained  sudden 
lusts  for  speed.  He  rode  steadily  under  the  fiery 
heat  of  afternoon,  in  the  sunset's  red  glare,  through 
an  incandescence  of  lantern-flies  that  rose  in  clouds 
at  dusk  like  sparks  from  a  prairie  fire — rode  in  and 
out  of  pit  blackness  into  the  eye  of  a  tawny  moon 
which  presently  sailed  up  and  threw  fantastic  shad 
ows,  dwarfed  twisted  shapes  across  his  path.  Ob 
sessed  by  the  most  awful  of  fears,  he  dashed  along  in 
moonlight  and  shadow  until,  a  long  hour  from  La 
Luna,  the  indigo  sky  ahead  burst  into  sudden  efful 
gence. 

"Fire!"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  startled  glance.  "At 
La  Luna!"  And  as  the  glow  intensified  and  spread 
from  zenith  to  horizon:  "The  whole  plantation!" 


XXVI 

WHEREIN   THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "  CASTLED" 

IN  the  dusk  of  the  morning  that  would  see  David's 
train  enter  the  City  of  Mexico,  Consuela  quietly 
opened  the  door  of  the  jacale  which  she  had  occupied 
at  La  Luna  every  other  night  for  the  last  three  weeks. 
The  Yaqui  girl  whom  Hertzer  had  given  her  for  a 
maid  still  slept  in  her  zarape  on  the  floor  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and,  closing  the  door  quietly,  Consuela 
moved  with  equal  stealth  past  the  dark  house,  down 
the  garden-path  in  the  gloom  of  shading  rubber. 
From  below,  the  low  voice  of  the  river  rose  out  of 
dark  mist;  trees  and  buildings  loomed  dimly  in  a 
gray-ghost  world;  withal,  old  Tomas  was  already 
marshalling  his  Yaquis  in  front  of  the  galera,  and 
he  exclaimed,  as  the  gate  clicked  under  her  hand : 

"It  is  you,  sefiorita?     Carambara!" 

But  his  eyebrows  came  down  when  she  explained 
that,  as  this  was  her  day  at  Verda,  she  preferred  to 
ride  in  the  cool.  Having,  moreover,  a  hawk's  eye 
to  the  future — which  would  see  her  his  mistress  if 
cook-house  tattle  were  to  be  believed — he  brought  out 
coffee  and  tortillas  from  his  own  hut,  nor  would  let  her 

439 


THE    PLANTER 

away  till  she  had  finished  both,  maintaining  that 
calenturas  were  bred  by  empty  stomachs,  advice  that 
would  have  been  welcome  as  the  coffee  if  she  had  been 
in  less  hurry.  Sipping  and  eating,  she  nervously 
watched  the  house  and  sighed  her  relief  as  she  rode 
away.  Yet  the  sigh  was  not  heavy,  bespoke  no  fear. 
For  she  laughed,  looking  back  from  the  turn  of  the 
trail;  uttered  a  low,  throaty  chuckle  like  that  of  a 
mischievous  child  while  whispering,  "Henceforth, 
more  care,  Consuela!"  an  utterance  which  has  its 
significance  in  that  it  revealed  her  knowledge,  not 
only  of  Hertzer's  love,  but  also  of  its  development  to 
the  danger-point. 

"Take  care,  my  dear  " — Mrs.  Ewing  had  ridden  over 
with  warnings  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  the  new  arrange 
ment — "take  care,  he  is  madly  in  love  with  you,  and 
if  he  should  suspect —  Better  come  home  with  me  to 
Las  Glorias?" 

Consuela,  of  course,  had  refused,  and  Mrs.  Ewing 
added  a  second  reason  to  her  plea  of  necessity  in  re 
tailing  their  conversation  to  her  husband.  "I  be 
lieve,  Frank,  she  takes  a  wicked  delight  in  managing 
him,  and  rather  enjoys  the  danger."  To  which  he 
laughingly  assented. 

"Did  you  just  find  that  out?  Under  her  demure- 
ness,  Consuela  is  a  dead  game  sport — spirited,  if  that 
suits  you  better  —  and  your  eternally  feminine  is 
fond  as  a  child  of  playing  with  fire.  However,  I 
think  Consuela  is  clever  enough  to  take  care  of  her 
fingers." 

440 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

Granting  this  small  vanity— -that  she  took  pleasure 
in  her  ability  to  move  a  man  who  had  proved  savagely 
intractable  to  every  other  influence  —  it  was  domi 
nated  by  bigger  feelings.  Riding  back  and  forth 
between  Verda  and  La  Luna — he  usually  contrived 
to  escort  her  part  of  the  way — she  gave  him  sym 
pathetic  encouragement  when  he  discussed  his  plans, 
and,  believing  that  with  her  help  he  might  persist  in 
and  further  the  good  with  all  of  his  great  force,  she 
was  oppressed  at  all  times  with  a  torturing  sense  of 
responsibility,  the  very  feeling  which  had  caused 
her  to  utter  words  last  night  that  made  necessary 
this  morning's  flight. 

"If  I  could  only  help  you!"  she  had  murmured,  at 
the  end  of  an  after-supper  talk,  and,  though  the 
observation  was  borne  of  regret,  the  knowledge  that 
David's  return  would  snatch  the  foundations  from 
under  all  these  airy  castles,  he  had  interpreted  by  his 
own  feeling;  it  had  taken  all  her  wit  to  stave  off  the 
consequences  she  saw  leaping  in  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  henceforth,  more  care,"  she  now  murmured 
once  more,  as  she  recalled  his  face.  But  she  laughed 
again,  with  the  assurance  of  safety,  as  she  reined  her 
horse  from  the  main  trail  on  to  a  by-path. 

Leading  in  to  a  sugar  finca  where  the  coarse  sweet 
ening  for  galera  use  was  made  by  a  Zacateco  family, 
the  path  had  been  heavily  overgrown  when  last  she 
passed  that  way,  but,  as  more  light  broke  down 
through  the  dim  tracery  of  palms  and  bejuca  tangle, 
she  saw  that  it  was  now  brushed  out  to  twice  its 


THE    PLANTER 

previous  width,  and  wondered  at  such  unusual  in 
dustry  on  the  part  of  the  rancher o. 

In  the  tropics  your  native  does  such  work  as  he 
must  in  the  cool  of  morning  or  evening,  and  the 
rumble,  wooden  creak  of  the  crushing  met  her  while 
still  deep  in  the  forest.  Emerging  at  one  end  of  a 
long  clearing,  as  the  sun's  brazen  disk  rose  out  of  the 
tree-tops  at  the  other,  she  saw  a  naked  boy  goad 
ing  on  the  mule  whose  endless  circlings  supplied  the 
power.  Primitive,  rude  of  construction  as  the  water- 
wheels  of  Egypt,  the  mill  was  built  of  wood  through 
out,  power -arm,  flat  transverse  wheel,  the  perpen 
diculars  whose  iron- wood  cogs  meshed  with  those  of 
massive  log  rollers ;  even  the  moulds,  which  were  sim 
ply  holes  in  a  log  whittled  to  the  size  and  shape  of  a 
Boston  brown  loaf.  Indeed,  a  stack  of  cubes,  yester 
day's  boiling,  exactly  resembled  that  edible.  The  boil 
ing-pan,  a  big,  flat  kettle  set  in  adobe  bricks  under  an 
open  jacale  roof,  was  the  one  bit  of  iron  about  the 
place ;  and  while  the  rancher  o  fed  cane  to  the  crusher, 
his  wife,  a  mighty  Zacateca,  stirred  the  boiling  sap. 
Because  of  the  fire  and  exercise,  she  had  thrown  off 
her  short  bodice,  and,  with  crimson  skirt  caught  up 
and  tied  trunk-wise  about  wide  hips,  she  stood  forth 
in  all  her  plenitudes,  stood  and  stirred  and  stirred  and 
stirred  with  a  slow,  easy  motion  that  was  the  very 
poetry  of  strength. 

While  the  ranchero  was  tying  up  in  corn-husks  the 
half-dozen  sugar  cubes  she  required  for  her  children, 
Consuela  sat  her  horse  and  looked  on.  The  sun— 

442 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

which  would  presently  turn  the  clearing  into  an  oven 
thrice  heated — as  yet  diffused  tempered  heat  and 
light  over  the  sea-green  spread  of  cane,  darker 
florescences  of  the  singing  jungle.  For  its  first  ray 
had  touched  off  an  explosion  of  noise,  calls  of  beast 
and  bird,  arguments  of  parrots  and  cockatoos,  which 
still  quarrelled  as  they  winged  it  in  flocks  under  the 
sky's  enormous  blue.  Overhead,  light  cirrus  clouds 
moved  like  feeding  sheep  toward  a  high  snow  moun 
tain,  towering  cumulus,  whose  upper  fleeces  rose  high 
above  the  trees.  With  time  to  spare,  she  found  it 
very  pleasant  to  sit  there,  bathed  in  warm  sunshine, 
with  the  lazy  creak  of  that  old-world  mill  in  her  ears, 
and  she  yielded  her  senses  to  the  charm  of  the  moment 
with  luxurious  abandonment — sat  and  drank  in  the 
freshness  of  the  morning;  watched  with  delight,  al 
most  pagan,  the  easy  strength,  slow,  unconscious  grace 
of  that  big  bronze  goddess ;  might  have  sat  longer  but 
for  the  answer  the  rancher o  returned  to  her  question. 

"You  brushed  out  the  trail?" 

"No,  senorita,"  he  replied,  as  he  finished  wrapping 
her  sugar  in  corn-husks.  "It  is  the  Sefior  Hertzer. 
From  the  platinas  yonder  he  has  also  cut  a  path  in  to 
his  new  camp,  and  from  there  a  trail  runs  out  to  the 
finca  of  Senor  Phelps.  From  here  you  may  go  that 
way." 

"And  if  it  please  thee  to  wait  but  a  moment,"  the 
woman  added,  "the  senor  will  show  thee  the  way. 
He  rides  every  morning  to  oversee  the  work  before 
he  breaks  his  fast." 

443 


THE   PLANTER 

Only  part  of  this  was  news.  The  progress  of  his 
Zacateco  builders  had  formed  the  text  of  their  talk 
last  night.  But,  whereas  she  knew  of  his  early  morn 
ing  inspections,  she  had  imagined  that  he  always 
went  by  Phelps's  trail,  and  now  her  little  trick  to  give 
him  the  slip  had  turned  out  an  undoubted  trap.  Any 
moment  might  bring  him!  And  giving  the  ranchero 
a  hasty  adios,  she  rode  on,  but  reined  in  again  to  call 
back: 

"Tell  him  that  I  shall  ride  slowly." 

Her  prevision  entailed  one  disadvantage:  she  had 
now  to  ride  at  a  walk  till  out  of  sight.  But  she  was 
thankful  for  it  when,  turning  at  a  distant  shout,  she 
saw  Hertzer  galloping  out  from  the  mill.  If  he  had 
seen  her  discovered  colors?  But  she  had  time  to 
school  them,  and  met  him  with  a  little  laugh.  "You 
looked  so  tired  last  night,  I  thought  to  steal  away. 
But  already  I  had  repented,  and  now  you  can  show 
me  the  camp." 

Following  so  closely  upon  the  message,  her  solicitude 
and  implied  compliment  completely  allayed  his  sus 
picion,  and  his  harsh  facial  lines  flowed  at  once  into 
the  kindliness  habitual  with  her.  Replying  that  he 
would  have  been  sorry  to  have  her  see  it  for  the 
first  time  alone,  he  fell  in  at  her  side,  but  observed 
such  silence  thereafter  that,  out  of  sheer  nervousness, 
she  burst  into  a  flood  of  talk,  prattled  of  birds,  flowers, 
the  camp,  any  and  everything  as  they  rode  along. 

And  she  had  grounds  for  alarm.  At  the  sight  of 
her,  fresh  and  fair  as  the  morning,  waiting  for  him  to 

444 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS   "CASTLED" 

catch  up,  some  suggestion  of  a  tryst  had  caused  him 
a  shock  of  emotion,  sudden  fierce  desire  which  now 
fed  and  fattened  on  every  stealthy  look.  Anticipat 
ing  heat,  she  had  tucked  her  white  blouse-waist  in  at 
the  throat,  a  slight  decollete  which  yet  accentuated  sex, 
adding  a  touch  of  sensuousaess  to  her  pure  beauty 
by  the  revelation  of  a  rounded  fulness  of  neck  not  to 
be  expected  from  her  delicate  modelling;  and  when, 
in  throwing  off  the  last  vestige  of  sleep,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  mouth  red  and  sweet  as  a  child's  before 
her  hand  could  stifle  the  yawn,  he  went  blind. 

She  undoubtedly  stood  in  great  danger.  An  ac 
cidental  word  or  girlish  carelessness  might  have  un 
stopped  the  flood  of  his  passion,  but,  catching  sight  of 
his  face,  she  froze,  and  rode  thereafter  in  a  flutter  of 
fright.  It  was  impossible  to  mistake  the  fear  behind 
her  sudden  silence,  and,  as  he  sensed  it,  that  queer 
aesthetic  strain  gave  birth  to  one  of  his  rare  impulses. 
He  began  to  talk.  When  she  took  courage  to  look 
again  his  way,  she  met  the  now  familiar,  friendly 
glance,  and,  desperately  thankful,  she  broke  again 
into  sudden  chatter,  prattled,  laughed,  did  her  best 
to  please  him  up  to  the  moment  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  camp. 

Though  informed,  as  aforesaid,  of  the  progress,  she 
exclaimed  at  sight  of  the  reality,  for,  just  as  he  had 
seen  them  in  his  day-dream,  two  rows  of  jacales  raised 
graceful  peaks  on  either  side  of  a  long  galera.  Others 
in  course  of  construction  exhibited  every  stage  of  that 
curious  building,  from  the  planting  of  stout  corner- 

445 


THE    PLANTER 

posts  to  the  tying  on  of  the  last  rib  of  palm  thatch. 
Here  cross  logs  were  being  fitted  into  the  crotches  of 
the  posts;  there  they  already  bore  bamboo  rafters, 
upon  which,  farther  on,  a  half-dozen  Zacatecores  laid 
thatch,  slitting  each  palm-leaf  along  the  centre  rib 
so  that  the  fronds  could  be  turned  downward.  Be 
yond  them,  still  others  were  splitting  pole-siding,  and 
at  every  stage  the  invaluable  bejuca  was  used  to  tie 
beams  to  posts,  rafters  to  beams,  to  lace  the  thatch 
to  ribs  and  all  to  the  rafters. 

"They'll  soon  be  finished!"  she  cried. 

"Hardly,"  he  smiled,  "though  they've  done  pretty 
well — about  six  houses  a  day,  which  isn't  so  remark 
able  when  you  consider  that  I've  hired  about  the  en 
tire  Zacateco  village.  Pretty  scene,  isn't  it?" 

It  was  beautiful  as  cheerful.  The  jungle's  varie 
gated  green  lay  about  them  in  waves  that  now  swelled 
over  a  distant  rise,  again  sank  into  the  trough,  per 
mitting  glimpses  of  gilded  roofs  in  sunlit  clearings  or 
shining  bits  of  river;  within  which  rich  setting  the 
plateau  basked  in  warm  sunshine,  cheerful  with  cries 
and  hammerings,  musical  babble  of  Spanish  tongues, 
enriched  with  a  crimson  flutter  of  dresses,  gold  of 
satin  skins;  for,  besides  the  half-hundred  or  so  of  men, 
an  equal  number  of  women  worked  about  the  build 
ings.  Here  a  lithe  girl  trimmed  palm  ribs  for  bunk 
flooring  with  a  deft  machete;  others  bound  on  pole- 
siding;  from  all  around  they  streamed  in,  dragging 
thirty-foot  palm  ribs  for  thatch,  or  walked  uprightly 
beneath  bundles  of  bejuca  withes  large  as  hay- ricks. 

446 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

"Another  week  will  finish  the  buildings,"  Hertzer 
went  on,  "but  there  will  still  be  a  good  deal  to  do — 
galeras  to  wire^  compound  to  build,  drainage.  I've 
ordered  galvanized  pipe  from  Vera  Cruz,  to  bring 
water  in  from  the  arroya  above  and  let  it  out  below. 
A  month  won't  see  it  through.  And  this  is  only  the 
beginning — the  first  camp." 

Talking,  his  face  had  lit  up  to  one  of  his  enthusi 
asms,  and  while  he  now  traced  the  run  of  Isthmus 
rivers  on  the  open  map  of  his  hand,  he  called  off  a 
dozen  plantations:  "La  Rosa,  Trinidad,  Tres  Marias, 
Buena  Ventura,  Esperenza — I  can  lay  my  hand  on 
fifty  that  can  be  bought  in  for  a  song.  Some,  of 
course,  are  no  good — bad  land  or  choked.  But  I  can 
take  my  pick  of  those  that  will  pay  for  clearing.  In 
three  more  years  the  rubber  on  this  river  will  shade 
the  ground  so  that  it  can  be  left  to  take  care  of  itself. 
Then  this  camp  can  be  moved.  But  I  shall  not 
wait  for  that.  I  haven't  put  twenty  years  in  here  in 
the  tropics  for  nothing,  and  if  my  own  capital  should 
prove  insufficient  I  can  easily  raise  more.  I'll  build 
a  camp  here — here — here."  His  big  finger  swooped 
from  finger  to  finger  between  rivers.  "One  by  one, 
I'll  gather  in  those  bankrupt  plantations  until " — 
he  took  a  deep  breath — "  until  I'm  the  biggest  Mexican 
owner,  big  enough  to  control  the  rubber  output." 

While  his  sharp  eyes  searched  the  horizon  as  though 
it  were  the  future  he  saw  so  vividly,  he  went  on. 
"  For  it  is  useless  to  produce  at  random.  The  instant 
tame  rubber  comes  on  the  market  Goodyear  and  the 

447 


THE    PLANTER 

other  big  buyers  will  begin  to  force  down  prices. 
Whether  it  is  corn,  wheat,  coal,  or  rubber,  your  little 
man  stands  as  much  chance  with  the  monopolies 
these  days  as  " — he  smashed  a  fly  on  his  horse's  neck 
— "this!  But  the  man  who  controls  Mexican  rubber 
can  ask  his  own  on  the  market." 

Pausing  to  exchange  a  word  with  the  Zacateco  'head 
man,  he  remained  under  the  spell  of  his  visioning  and 
began  again,  went  on  planting  out  camps  on  his  hand, 
reached  further  and  further  into  the  future,  built 
warehouses  and  wharves  for  a  steam-launch  line  to 
exploit  the  inland  Indian  trade;  and  as  he  proceeded, 
planning  and  explaining  with  that  combination  of 
prophecy  and  hard  sense  which  has  drawn  the  strings 
of  the  world's  finances  into  the  hands  of  the  clever 
Jew,  Consuela's  fancy  first  followed,  then  outraced 
even  his  fierce  enthusiasm.  Vividly  imaginative, 
she  could  not  but  be  impressed  by  an  audacity  which 
paused  only  at  the  control  of  the  Mexican  tropics, 
a  country  immensely  rich,  large  as  an  old-world 
kingdom.  The  romance  of  it  set  her  aflame  with 
kindred  visions;  only,  where  he  saw  boats,  wharves, 
markets,  warerooms,  her  fancy  planted  schools, 
churches,  everything  that  would  make  for  the  good 
of  the  Isthmus  peoples. 

"Senor,"  she  breathed,  as  her  mind  flashed  out  to 
the  possibilities  of  good  and  evil  in  his  schemes — 
"senor,  you  would  be  master  of  the  Isthmus." 

"Master  of  the  Isthmus." 

Repeating  it,  he  flung  back  his  head  with  a  move- 
448 


THE   "QUEEN-   IS   "CASTLED" 

ment  regal  in  its  ine^able  insolence,  arrogant  asser 
tion  of  mastership  over  fate.  In  his  eyes  warm  lights 
were  dancing,  leaping,  flashing  like  ripples  on  sun- 
struck  water.  The  flame  of  that  great  visioning  had 
melted  the  dross  in  his  square  Slav  face,  and  for  the 
moment  he  sat  invested  with  a  nobility  of  force, 
strength  of  masculinity,  which  always  appeals  to  a 
woman. 

And  Consuela,  a  true  woman,  felt  the  call — so 
strongly  that  had  he  been  ten  years  younger  and  of 
better  record,  David  might  have  had  reason  to  trem 
ble.  As  it  was,  she  did  not  attempt  to  hide  her  ad 
miration,  and,  warmed  by  its  glow,  he  went  on  to  put 
her  very  thoughts  into  words. 

"Master  of  the  Isthmus,  with  power  greater  than 
that  of  the  governors  of  Vera  Cruz,  Oaxaca,  Chiapas, 
and  Yucatan  combined.  Power  great  enough  to 
overawe  the  rascally  jefe-politicos,  abolish  their 
exactions.  Wealth  enough  to  build  churches,  schools, 
hospitals.  Powerful  and  wealthy  enough  to  do  all 
that  if — I  had  you  at  my  elbow  to  point  out  what 
should  be  done?" 

It  had  come  again,  the  crisis  from  which  she  had 
fled,  and,  turning  from  the  tumult,  eager  question  of 
his  eyes,  she  tried  to  stave  it  off.  "We  shall  always 
be  friends—" 

"No,  no!"  he  interrupted,  with  an  emphatic  shake 
of  the  head.  "A  friend  could  not  do  that  for  me. 
Let's  be  frank.  Three  months  ago  I  should  have 
laughed  at  the  very  idea  of  having  an  interest  outside 

449 


THE   PLANTER 

of  flowers  and  fighting,  for  I  understand  myself — well 
enough  to  be  certain  that  if  any  good  works  are  to 
come  out  of  me  it  will  have  to  be  through  you.  Don't 
be  afraid,"  he  quickly  added,  as  she  glanced  uneasily 
toward  the  Zacatecores.  "I  am  not  asking  you  to 
marry  me — yet.  We  are  already  partners  in  work, 
and  the  one  will  lead  to  the  other.  Only  I  want  you 
to  think  of  it,  to  realize  what  it  means  to  yourself  and 
others.  Where  a  young  man  could  only  offer  love, 
I'll  give  you  power  as  well,  power  to  do  the  things  you 
like."  With  the  rude  eloquence  natural  to  him  in 
moments  of  deep  feeling,  he  finished,  "I'll  make  you 
mistress  of  the  Isthmus.  Where  other  women  have 
only  babies,  I'll  give  you  peoples  for  your  play 
things?" 

As  her  head  was  turned  away  he  could  not  see  the 
sudden  distress  that  swept  her  face.  All  through  he 
had  spoken  with  rude  dignity  born  of  restraint,  and, 
combining  with  the  vibrant  warmth  the  force  of  his 
pleading,  it  quickened  her  remorse  for  the  part  she  was 
playing.  Under  urge  of  that  Judas  feeling,  she  was 
tempted  to  speak  out,  to  reply  that,  while  love  was  out 
of  the  question,  she  would  always  stand  by  him  with 
sympathy  and  encouragement.  But  just  in  time  to 
check  the  suicidal  impulse,  she  caught  a  glint  of  gold, 
the  roofs  of  Verda,  far  off  in  the  deep  green  of  the 
jungle,  and  remorse  was  swept  out  by  flooding  mem 
ories  of  his  hard  record,  late  treachery,  the  founda 
tions  of  fraud  upon  which  he  expected  to  build  these 
shining  castles.  "If  the  good  be  in  him,  it  will  out 

45° 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

of  itself— if  not,  of  what  avail  thy  efforts?"  The 
wisdom  of  the  old  mandador  was  borne  out  by  his  own 
confession.  "  If  good  works  are  to  come  out  of  me, 
it  will  have  to  be  through  you."  And  the  thought 
stiffened  her  to  play  out  her  role  to  the  end. 

But  what  to  say? 

"The  idea  seems  strange?"  To  her  immense  re 
lief,  he  lifted  the  burden  of  speech  out  of  her  hands. 
"Well,  don't  speak — just  now.  Give  it  time.  Things 
will  go  very  well  as  they  are  for  a  while.  You  can 
choose  your  own  time  to  answer.  Come  over  and 
look  at  the  galera." 

She  was  glad  enough  of  the  diversion,  and  put  it  to 
such  good  use  that  she  was  able  to  say  good-bye  quite 
gayly  after  they  had  examined  the  galera,  with  its 
wash-house  and  wooden  troughs.  "And  now,  senor, 
I  must  go,  for  I  am  late;  a  fine  example  to  set  my 
scholars.  No,  you  cannot  come  one  step  farther." 

"Why?"  he  asked,  tickled  by  her  pretty  impera 
tiveness. 

"You  have  had  no  breakfast." 

"Neither  have  you." 

"But  mine  is  waiting  at  Verda — just  as  is  yours  at 
La  Luna.  Go  straight  home." 

The  command,  with  its  flattering  suggestion  of 
anxiety  for  his  welfare,  pleased  him  immensely,  and 
he  obeyed  at  once,  pausing  only  on  the  edge  of  the 
jungle  to  make  sure  she  had  taken  the  right  path. 
Reassured,  he  rode  on  at  a  footpace,  plunged  in 
reveries  of  a  softness  and  sincerity  hitherto  alien  to 


THE    PLANTER 

his  hard  nature,  his  craft,  for  once  in  abeyance,  sub 
merged  beneath  the  glamours  of  love.  Self-deceived 
or  not,  his  intention  had  been  honest.  Meaning  all 
that  he  had  said,  he  now  dreamed,  dreamed,  amplify 
ing  on  the  future,  sketching  in  the  details  of  that 
partnership  of  works  with  love;  dreamed  dreams  the 
very  memory  of  which  would  presently  lash  his  raw 
pride  with  the  sting  of  poisoned  whips. 

Busy  with  her  own  thoughts — and  feelings,  which 
alternated  between  thankfulness  and  pity — Consuela 
pursued  the  opposite  direction.  Now  that  the  crisis 
was  past  and  she  felt  sure  of  her  ability  to  manage 
Hertzer  to  the  end,  she  had  more  room  for  the  latter 
feeling.  Out  of  his  sight  and  dominant  influence,  she 
knew  that  with  him  it  must  be  either  love  or  hate, 
and,  seeing  the  impossibility  of  friendship  between 
them,  she  was  sorry,  sorry  that  such  force  and 
strength  as  his  should  be  doomed  through  her  in 
nocent  default  to  flow  in  evil  channels.  Her  con 
science  led  her  a  miserable  dance  until  her  thought 
turned  to  David. 

Where  was  he? — doing  what? — with  whom?  The 
last  was  not  necessarily  least  of  the  clauses,  but  if  hy 
pothetical  Americanas  of  surpassing  beauty  hovered 
in  her  thought,  they  vanished  before  a  sudden  vision 
of  David's  honest  face,  leaving  her  free  for  the  other 
questions.  Travelling  north,  he  had  mailed  a  card 
from  El  Paso.  A  hasty  scrawl  from  New  York  had 
drifted  into  some  backwater  of  the  Mexican  post-office 
— to  emerge  three  months  later.  Having  experienced 

452 


THE   "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

the  vagaries  of  that  sluggish  service,  she  had  guessed 
as  much;  but  was  none  the  less  anxious  if  not  hurt. 
F;jr  as  this  was  the  eighteenth  day  since  his  departure, 
the  fight  for  Verda  must  have  been  won  or  lost  a  week 
ago,  and  though  she  quoted  the  Spanish  equivalent 
of  the  proverb,  "It  is  ill  news  that  travels  fast,"  she 
had  sea-room  and  to  spare  for  anxious  speculation; 
was  tossing  up  and  down  in  her  cockle-shell  of  doubt 
when  Lola,  Phelps's  Tehuana  wife,  called  to  her  from 
the  door  as  she  passed  the  house. 

Something  in  the  woman's  soft  smile,  touch  of 
sympathy  mixed  with  mischief,  caused  her  a  flush  as 
Phelps  came  hurrying  out  with  a  bundle  of  letters 
and  papers,  but  her  face  fell  when  he  said  that  they  had 
come  up  from  San  Juan  with  his  corn  and  were  all 
for  Ewingo  What  of  her  frequent  snubs,  he  stood  a 
little  in  awe  of  her  these  days,  but  while  she  stowed 
the  mail  in  her  hempen  saddle-bags,  bending  over  to 
hide  her  disappointment,  he  looked  on  with  a  mis 
chievous  smile. 

"Now,  what  will  you  give  me  for  this?"  He 
brought  his  hand  suddenly  out  from  behind  his  back. 

A  little  gasping  "gracias"  was  all  that  he  got,  or 
deserved^  for  as  she  rode  away  he  turned,  grinning,  to 
Lola.  "  If  Hertzer  could  have  seen  her  blush  ?  And 
he  believes  that  she  never  cared  a  rap  for  David — told 
me  so  when  I  was  chaffing  him  the  other  day.  Lordy, 
how  she's  riding!" 

"Ay,  she  cares."  And  while  her  soft  gaze  followed 
the  flying  figure,  she  whispered  her  own  experience. 

453 


THE    PLANTER 

''The  worse  for  it — for  the  woman  that  cares  too 
much  tor  a  man." 

Not  until  that  mad  gallop  had  buried  her  colors 
deep  in  the  heart  of  the  friendly  jungle  did  Consuela 
pause  to  keep  tryst  with  her  letter.  Of  the  two 
enclosures  her  eager  fingers  went  of  themselves  to 
David's,  and  as  she  read — slowly,  for  written  English 
was  still  a  task — of  his  love  and  loneliness,  which  the 
young  man's  native  wit  had  given  precedence  of  even 
his  great  news,  a  quick  dew  spread  rainbows  across  the 
page.  Reading  his  mother's  letter,  the  dew  con 
densed  in  drops  on  her  long  lashes,  bright  tribute  to 
its  fervor  of  thanks.  While  giving  the  date  set  for 
his  return,  David  had  omitted,  manlike,  to  state 
rhyme  or  reason  for  the  delay;  but  this  was  supplied 
by  the  inevitable  feminine  postscript: 

"I  shall  keep  him  a  few  days  longer — an  unwilling 
prisoner,  I  am  afraid — but  I  feel  that  you  won't 
begrudge  him  to  his  mother." 

With  which  slight  shadow  removed  from  his  other 
wise  bright  eagerness,  she  gave  answer  aloud  to  his 
plea.  "There  are  still  the  others,  but — "  David 
not  being  present  in  person  to  render  delay  delight 
ful,  she  tossed  a  proud  head  in  the  face  of  La  Seiiora, 
the  Americana  Grundy,  "I  will!  will!  will!" 

Dropping  again  to  his  letter  from  a  wistfully  tender 
pause,  she  read,  reread— indeed,  read  it  so  often  that 
she  arrived  shamefully  late  at  Verda,  and  had  to  call 
it  a  holiday  to  annul  the  force  of  the  awful  example. 
So-  after  distributing  the  good  news  and  sugar  respec- 

454 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

tiveiy  to  Magdaleno  and  her  children,  she  galloped  0:1 
to  Las  Glorias. 

Seeing  her  coming  from  the  veranda — where  he 
was  cooling  off  for  lunch — Ewing  gauged  news  from 
ber  speed,  good  news,  from  the  triumph  in  her  clear 
call  as  she  swept  by  the  footlog  to  come  round  by  the 
bridge,  and  his  answering  whoop  brought  his  wife 
out  just  as  Consuela  dashed  up  to  the  door.  As  his 
mail  contained  a  letter  from  his  uncle,  a  quick 
scanning  gave  him  precedence  even  of  Consuela's 
excited  Spanish,  and,  leaving  his  wife  to  dot  its  liquid 
flow  with  appropriate  exclamations,  he  ran  for  the 
store,  to  presently  return  bearing  a  bottle,  a  left-over 
from  Christmas. 

"For  this  is  a  double  occasion,"  he  said,  filling 
Consuela's  glass  at  the  meal.  "Here's  to  you  and 
Davy,  wherever  he  may  be.  .  .  .  And,  by  Jove!  that's 
Ciudad  Mexico,"  he  added,  after  a  rapid  calculation. 
"  He  leaves  there  to-night .  .  .  one  .  .  .  two  ...  he  ought 
to  be  here  in  three  days." 

"So  you  had  better  stay  here  till  he  comes,"  Mrs. 
Ewing  said;  and,  having  been  informed  of  Hertzer's 
proposal  while  Consuela  was  washing  her  hands,  she 
added,  "I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  going  back 
to  that  man." 

But  Consuela  shook  her  head,  and  when  he  had 
weighed  her  reasons  Ewing  took  sides  against  his 
wife.  "She's  right,  Nellie.  In  three  days  Hertzer 
could  do  an  immense  amount  of  damage — ship  the  peo 
ple  down-river,  loot  the  stores,  and  it's  a  cinch  that 

455 


THE    PLANTER 

he  would  if  she  didn't  go  back.  But  if  she  returns,  as 
usual,  to-morrow,  teaches  at  La  Luna  the  following 
day,  and  comes  back  here  the  next,  she'll  be  in  lots 
of  time  for  Davy.  With  his  reinstatement,  of  course, 
she  goes  naturally  back  into  his  employment,  and 
even  such  an  unreasonable  man  as  Hertzer  cannot 
suspect  her  of  subterfuge.  We  shall  only  have  his 
jealousy  to  reckon  with." 

Having  received  indignant  enlightenment  con 
cerning  the  proposal,  he  still  stuck  to  his  guns.  "Con 
found  his  cheek!  Yet  she's  the  safer  for  it.  By  all 
means,  let  her  go." 

And  go  she  did — after  a  pitched  battle  next  day 
with  Magdaleno,  who  held  to  Mrs.  Ewing's  opinion. 
"'Twas  on  the  last  trip  to  the  river  the  olla  was 
broken,"  the  faithful  old  fellow  grumbled.  "But 
so  it  was  always  with  the  Colonel,  thy  father.  For 
ever  poking  the  eagle  nose  of  him  into  the  place  of 
danger.  Scatter  the  people,  sayest  thou  ?  Nay,  but 
I  can  hold  both  thee  and  the  place  for  three  days  till 
the  coming  of  Don  David." 

And  when  she  rode  away  he  called  after,  "I  feel 
it  in  my  bones  that  this  is  folly,  and  if  it  be  that  thou 
breakest  not  thy  fast  here  at  Verda  manana,  thou  wilt 
see  my  hot  spurs  at  La  Luna." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  that  Consuela  reined 
in  on  the  very  knoll  from  which  David  and  Hertzer 
had  overlooked  La  Luna  more  than  a  year  ago.  As 
then,  the  rubber  lay  at  her  feet,  ruling  off  thousands 

456 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

of  acres  with  dark-green  lines  like  those  on  a  sheet  of 
foolscap.  All  around  the  jungle  tossed  its  uneven 
masses,  flecked  here  and  there  with  a  scum  of  wild 
platinas,  brown  of  clump  cedar,  isles  of  palms  in  the 
lighter  green  of  tree  foliage.  Luxuriously  beautiful, 
it  swam  in  the  rich  glow,  tawny  lights  of  a  low  sun; 
but,  though  she  had  paused  to  observe  it,  her  eyes 
drew  instead  to  Hertzer's  Yaquis,  whose  line  was 
strung  a  quarter-mile  on  either  side  of  the  hill. 

In  fulfilment  of  Hertzer's  assertion  that  he  would 
"  clean  La  Luna  an  inch  below  ground  before  the 
rains,"  they  had  mowed  a  half-mile  swath  twice 
across  the  plantation  in  the  last  month,  and  the 
slaughtered  monte  cumbered  the  entire  surface  a  foot 
deep.  Fried  to  a  crisp  by  the  fierce  sun,  it  loaded 
down  the  air  with  dank  essences,  odors  of  new-mown 
hay  acrid  in  their  strength. 

Though  Hertzer  had  given  these,  his  slaves,  treat 
ment  such  as  his  miserable  enganchadores  had  never 
heard  of — even  in  dreams — allowing  a  three-hour 
siesta  during  the  noon  heat,  giving  them  better  food, 
dry  clothing,  and  such  care  that  he  had  brought  them 
through  the  last  rains  with  scarcely  a  death,  the 
tropics  had  yet  taken  heavy  toll  of  their  flesh.  Where 
their  sweaty  cottons  had  once  stretched  over  bulging 
muscles,  they  now  flapped  loosely.  Perpetual  labor 
had  humped  square  shoulders,  bent  straight  backs; 
sullen  eyes  glowed  like  smouldering  coals  in  sunken 
sockets.  But  if  stripped  to  the  foundations  of  bone, 
their  hostile  glances  at  the  cdbos  who  stood  behind  the 

457 


THE    PLANTER 

line — one  to  every  ten — with  Winchesters  cocked  for 
use,  told  that  the  stubborn  Yaqui  spirit  remained  un 
broken.  Of  them  all,  but  one  displayed  his  former 
physique — David's  big  Yaqui,  who  stood  with  his 
back  turned  half  -  way  down  the  hill.  Promoted 
through  Hertzer's  whim  to  the  comparative  ease  of  a 
caboship,  he  had  regained  his  magnificence  of  flesh, 
upon  which  his  thin  camisa  lay  like  a  second  skin, 
moving  with  the  serpent  play  of  muscle.  The  one 
cabo  without  a  rifle — -for  the  whim  had  stopped  short, 
of  suicide — he  leaned  upon  his  machete,  silent,  motion 
less.  Consuela  thought  he  was  lost  in  reverie  till  that 
occurred  which  permitted  her  to  see — as  David  once 
saw  in  the  fight  in  the  glade — him  spring,  without  a 
quiver  of  warning,  out  of  absolute  rest  into  violent 
action. 

The  monte  always  abounds  with  snakes  which  glide, 
a  writhing  brood,  ahead  of  the  cleaners:  snakes  big 
and  little,  tethuanas,  ashuadores,  fat  and  thin,  from  the 
deadly  viper o  to  the  twenty-foot  python,  one  of  which 
now  suddenly  loosed  his  battering-ram  of  a  nose  from 
low  ambush  and  knocked  a  man  head  over  heels. 
Echoing  his  yell,  the  men  on  his  either  side  sprang, 
swinging  their  machetes  as  the  serpent  recoiled,  jaws 
spread  wide  for  the  seizing  stroke.  But,  quicker 
than  they,  the  Yaqui  leaped  from  his  rest  as  it  flashed 
out  and  took  off  the  head  with  a  single  blow. 

From  first  to  last  it  passed  in  the  wink  of  an  eye, 
while  Consuela  opened  her  mouth  to  scream.  Almost 
before  she  had  time  to  close  it,  the  fallen  man  returned 

458 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

with  a  grunt  to  his  work,  the  Yaqui  stilled  the  body's 
lashings  with  a  few  pounding  blows  along  the  spine 
and  was  back  in  his  place,  motionless,  abstracted  as 
ever — apparently,  for  he  spoke  as  she  rode  by  to 
look  at  the  snake. 

"Do  not  look  this  way,  senorita.  But  tell  me  that 
it  is  a  lie  of  the  cabos  that  the  Senor  Hertzer  has 
driven  Don  David  away?" 

A  glance  to  her  right  revealed  the  reason  for  the 
caution — Patricia  and  Hertzer,  who  had  just  ridden 
around  from  behind  a  patch  of  uncut  monte;  and  she 
had  just  time  to  answer,  "  It  is  a  lie,"  and  to  catch  his 
whispered  "  Sta'uena!"  before  they  rode  up. 

"Hello,  young  lady!     Back  again?" 

His  welcoming  smile  caused  her  the  usual  com 
punction;  she  was  glad  when  he  turned  to  examine 
the  snake.  "Carambara!  but  he's  big;  a  hundred 
pounds,  at  least.  Hit  that  fellow,  you  say?  Lucky 
for  him  that  it  didn't  get  a  coil  around  him.  One 
squeeze  would  stave  in  the  ribs  of  an  ox.  I  must 
have  it  skinned.  Mounted  on  scarlet,  it  will  make  a 
gorgeous  trophy  for  your  room." 

Coming  up,  Patricia  had  returned  a  cool  nod  to 
Consuela's  greeting,  and,  while  Hertzer  rattled  along 
with  almost  boyish  eagerness,  she  sat  her  horse, 
sullenly  pouting.  Variable  as  vindictive,  inheriting 
with  her  Indian  blood  the  caprice  natural  in  savage 
peoples,  her  manner  in  the  last  three  weeks  had 
oscillated  between  warmth  almost  affectionate,  when 
alone  with  Consuela,  to  sullen  jealousy  in  presence 

459 


THE   PLANTER 

of  her  father  or,  for  matter  of  that,  any  other  white 
planter.  So,  knowing  that  she  would  presently  thaw, 
Consuela  ignored  her  coldness. 

This  came  to  pass  riding  homeward.  Bursting  out 
in  sudden  laughter,  the  uncontrollable  hilarity  which 
the  evil  plight  of  another  excites  in  a  savage,  she 
alternately  tittered  and  shrieked  while  pointing  at  a 
reddish  patch  on  the  white  of  Consuela's  skirt. 

"Pinililleas,"  Hertzer  answered  the  girl's  puzzled 
glance.  "You  are  covered  with  them." 

Her  first  experience  with  the  microscopic  pests, 
which  cling  in  their  millions  upon  jungle  foliage, 
Consuela  tried  to  brush  them  off,  whereupon  Patricia 
redoubled  her  laughter.  "You  can't  do  it!"  she 
cried.  "It  is  a  tub  and  a  complete  change  for  you, 
my  lady — as  quickly  as  you  can  make  it."  Yet  she 
was  quick  to  offer  a  change  of  her  own  when  Con 
suela  cried  out  in  dismay  that  all  her  things  were  at 
Verda;  moreover,  on  their  arrival  at  the  house,  she 
hurried  her  into  her  own  room,  even  helped  her  un 
dress,  exclaiming  that  the  pests  would  be  all  over  her. 

As  they  already  were.  Sinking  through  her  cloth 
ing  in  the  few  minutes  required  to  gallop  in,  the  atoms 
settled  like  sparks  of  fire  upon  her  flesh;  caused  her 
such  discomfort  that  she  forgot  David's  letter — which 
she  had  pinned  for  safety  on  the  inner  side  of  her 
blouse — until,  returning  from  her  bath,  she  saw  that 
her  clothing  was  gone. 

"Your  things?"  Patricia,  who  was  exchanging 
her  tight  habit  for  cool  white,  carelessly  repeated  her 

460 


THE   "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

question.     "They  were  swarming,  so  I  bundled  them 
up  for  Pancha  to  take  down  to  the  river." 

For  the  moment  Consuela  choked,  then,  realizing 
the  need  of  hurry,  she  dressed  quickly  and  ran  for  the 
river,  where,  after  a  vigorous  sousing,  she  found 
Pancha  beating  the  blouse  on  a  bowlder.  Held  up 
for  inspection,  it  still  displayed  the  pin  and  piece  of 
water-soaked  envelope,  so  she  returned  to  the  house 
at  ease,  though  greatly  vexed — vexation  that  would 
have  given  place  to  active  alarm  had  she  known  that 
the  enclosures  were  even  then  in  Patricia's  hands. 

Like  the  hum  of  their  opposites,  the  busy  bees,  the 
drone  of  Consuela's  lazy  scholars  floated  across  a  band 
of  fierce  sunlight  in  through  the  window  by  which 
Patricia  sat  reading  David's  letter  for  the  second  time. 
Just  what  was  her  intention  toward  it  would  be  hard 
to  say.  Most  probably  she  had  none.  Her  expres 
sion  revealed  an  even  mixture  of  amusement  and 
contempt,  with  just  a  flavor  of  the  relief  which  any 
girl  would  feel  on  being  removed  from  the  shadow  of  a 
stepmother;  for  if  David's  insensibility  to  her  beauty 
had  piqued  a  dominant  jealousy  which  brooked  no 
competition,  demanded  allegiance  from  every  one, 
at  this  time  and  distance  the  feeling  was  not  suf 
ficiently  strong  to  urge  her  to  an  act  which  she  must 
have  known  would  be  fraught  with  serious  conse 
quences.  If  Hertzer  had  followed  his  custom  and 
gone  out  to  the  camp  instead  of  lounging  with  cigars 
and  paper  under  her  window,  events  would  most 

461 


THE    PLANTER 

likely  have  shaped  toward  a  quiet  conclusion.  But 
when,  glancing  out,  she  saw  that  he  was  listening  for 
Consuela's  voice  to  punctuate  the  drone,  her  smile  set 
in  sudden  scorn.  When,  sauntering  over,  he  leaned 
in  the  doorway  looking  on  with  a  pleased  smile,  the 
amber  of  her  eyes  deepened  to  red-brown,  flared  into 
actual  red  as,  returning,  he  paused  to  scrape  the 
python  skin  which  was  curing  in  the  sun. 

"You  old  fool!" 

Unaware  till  then  of  her  presence,  he  looked  up 
quickly  and  caught  the  red  glow,  bitter  scorn  of  her 
face  through  the  dim  veil  of  window-screen.  In  all 
their  quarrels — which  were  frequent  and  furious  in 
inverse  proportion  to  the  tiger  affection  that  ob 
tained  between  them— she  had  never  used  a  tone  so 
bitterly  resentful.  A  trifle  nonplussed,  he  stood, 
flushed  and  a  little  foolish,  till  she  repeated  it,  throw 
ing  wide  the  screen:  "  You  old  fool!"  Then  he  strode 
forward,  the  flush  of  discovered  sentimentality  deep 
ening  to  the  red  of  anger. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"As  if  you  didn't  know!"  She  sustained  his  gray 
glare.  "That  look  was  worthy  of  old  Tomas  in  sight 
of  a  new  enganchada.  It  would  be  positively  pathetic 
— if  it  was  not  so  ridiculous.  You  and  your  schools! 
When  you  forced  me  to  invite  her  here,  I  said  that 
you'd  get  no  good  of  it,  that  she  was  no  Tehuana  to  be 
bought  with  a  tin  of  sardines !  And  now — read  that !" 

As  aforesaid,  a  man  may  measure  others  only  by 
himself,  and  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  contempt  he 

462 


THE    "QUEEN"   IS   "CASTLED" 

had  scoffed  at  the  very  idea  that  a  girl  of  Consuela's 
mettle  could  be  in  love  with  sober  David.  It  was  so 
unbelievable  that  even  now  his  brain  refused  for  the 
moment  to  accept  the  evidence  of  his  eyes.  Aware  of 
the  heat  and  glare  beyond  the  brown  shade  of  the 
eaves,  he  continued  to  stare  down  at  the  letter  till 
Consuela's  voice  broke  again  on  the  somnolent  drone. 
Then  it  came,  the  realization,  and  as  he  thought  of 
the  way  in  which  he  had  been  tricked,  blinded, 
managed  till  the  plot  should  be  ripe  for  his  thwarting, 
remembered  his  confidences,  proposal,  there  flamed  up 
within  him  the  most  furious  passion  of  his  furious  life. 

His  machete  hung  with  his  belt  and  guns  over  the 
back  of  his  chair,  but  the  enormous  impulse  which 
swelled  through  every  muscle  permitted  no  thought 
of  weapons.  The  letter  crackled  and  tore  under  a 
fierce,  unconscious  clutch,  Barehanded,  bareheaded, 
blind,  he  strode  from  the  veranda  out  into  the  sun 
light,  then  paused,  blinking,  at  a  sudden  hail. 

"Hello,  where  are  you  going  in  such  a  hurry?" 

It  was  Phelps,  coming  up  the  garden-path ;  and,  con 
scious  of  his  queer,  inquisitive  look,  Hertzer  thrust 
the  letter  into  his  pocket  as  he  turned  away.  "  I  was 
going  to  cut  a  pineapple  for  your  lunch.  Come  and 
choose  it." 

"  Been  fighting  with  Patricia  again,"  Phelps  thought. 
"I  have  good  news,"  he  said,  aloud,  as  Hertzei 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  pineapples.  "My  folks 
have  answered  at  last.  They'll  sublet  the  work  at 
your  price." 

463 


THE    PLANTER 

As  the  other  was  now  stooped  over  the  fruit,  Phelps 
could  not  see  the  sudden  sullen  writhing  of  his  face. 
It  was  the  last  insult  of  a  humiliating  fate  to  tender 
this  empty  husk  of  a  petty  success  after  robbing  him 
of  the  ripe  fruit.  A  curse  rose  to  his  lips,  but  he  re 
pressed  it  and  heard  himself  answering,  as  in  a  hot 
dream : 

"  That's  fine ;  we'll  talk  over  the  details  after  lunch." 

Pleading  a  bilious  headache,  he  refused  to  go  in 
to  the  meal ;  lay  at  length  on  his  bed,  the  big  bulk  of 
him  quivering  under  gushes  of  passion,  conscious  of 
the  talk  at  the  table,  which  mixed  in  an  odd  jumble 
with  angry  memories,  scraps  of  furious  thought.  Nor 
did  he  come  out  till  Consuela  had  called  in  her  after 
noon  school. 

"  I  have  to  go  over  to  the  new  camp,"  he  then  said 
to  Phelps,  who  was  smoking  outside.  "Come  along; 
we  can  talk  over  your  business  on  the  way." 

And  talk  he  did,  of  this,  that,  the  other — discussed 
an  intention  of  buying  in  the  sugar  finca  to  supply  his 
galeras,  spoke  of  the  number  of  men  he  would  throw 
into  Phelps's  rubber,  and  came  to  an  agreement  as  to 
the  date  of  the  first  and  periods  between  subsequent 
cleanings.  At  the  camp  he  gave  orders,  settled  small 
problems,  seemed  interested  in  Phelps's  comments. 
But  it  was  all  superficial,  overlaid  the  seething  feeling 
which  would  send  a  shiver  through  his  every  limb  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence.  Usually  he  paused,  before 
leaving,  to  crack  a  rough  joke  with  the  women,  who 
were  not  insensible  to  the  vacancy  at  La  Luna  made 

464 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

by  Rosa's  dismissal.  But  whereas  their  glances — 
which  ranged  from  the  invitation  of  experience  to  the 
tentative  timidity  of  virginity — had  caused  him  much 
amusement,  to-day  he  saw  neither  them,  their  flut 
tering  pageant  of  color,  always  a  delight  to  his  eye, 
nor  the  sunset  lights  that  shot  the  jungle  with  silken 
glamours  as  they  journeyed  homeward. 

Coming  out,  he  had  entertained  some  dim  notion 
that  Phelps  would  ride  on  home  from  the  camp, 
and  those  shivers  of  passion  were  premonitory  of  the 
flood  that  would  burst  the  dams  of  his  repression  the 
moment  he  was  alone.  But  he  was  doomed  to  harbor 
it  longer,  for  Phelps  turned  with  him. 

"The  relieving  officer  —  that's  my  governor,  you 
know — remitted  my  quarter's  salary  the  other  day, 
and  I've  a  hunch  to  win  back  the  hundred  you  robbed 
me  of  last  week."  Nor  was  he  to  be  dissuaded  by  the 
dry  answer: 

"You'll  be  more  likely  to  lose  another." 

Arrived  at  La  Luna,  they  found  the  two  girls,  in 
cool  white,  waiting  for  them  in  the  dusk  under  the 
eaves.  Already  a  little  repentant,  Patricia  studied 
her  father's  face  with  an  anxiety  which  increased  as, 
passing  in,  he  returned  only  a  nod  to  their  greetings. 
If  surprised  at  his  sudden  coldness,  his  pleasant  man 
ner  all  that  morning  prevented  Consuela  from  divin 
ing  the  truth,  and  when  he  returned  only  mono 
syllables  to  her  conversation  at  dinner  without  even 
looking  her  way,  she  jumped  to  the  most  probable  con 
clusion —  "Senor  Phelps  has  told  him  about  my  let- 

465 


THE   PLANTER 

ter  " ;  a  suspicion  which  was  confirmed  by  an  incident 
that  occurred  as  they  sat  later  at  play. 

Ordinarily,  Phelps  would  not  have  done  it.  But 
if,  as  aforesaid,  he  now  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  her, 
he  had  by  no  means  forgiven  her  snubs,  and  when 
repeated  losses  had  irritated  his  somewhat  vixenish 
temper,  he  remembered  and  looked  at  her  across  the 
table,  womanish  resentment  in  his  small,  sparkling 
eyes. 

"By  the  way,"  he  asked,  "who  has  heard  from 
David?" 

It  came  so  suddenly  that  Consuela  could  not  re 
strain  her  colors.  Conscious  of  Hertzer's  quick  look, 
Patricia's  face  of  angry  alarm,  she  bent  over  the  bit 
of  sewing  she  was  doing  for  her  Yaqui  maid  till  the 
red  tide  faded.  When  she  looked  up  her  eyes  were 
full  of  scorn. 

"Don't  you  know  his  writing?" 

Aware,  on  his  part,  of  Patricia's  furious  eyes,  the 
touch  of  contempt  in  Hertzer's  cold  gaze,  Phelps  tried 
to  carry  it  off  with  a  forced  laugh.  "Oh,  so  it  was 
from  him?  And  how  is  the  good  boy?" 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  quietly. 

If  he  appreciated  her  quick  understanding,  the 
lightning  intuition  that  steered  her  away  from  useless 
evasion,  no  glint  of  approval  was  revealed  in  Hertzer's 
expression. 

"Your  lead,  Phelps,"  he  broke  in,  with  sharp  im 
patience,  and  the  game  went  on. 

Despite  her  calmness,  Consuela  was  dreadfully 
466 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

shaken,  and  as  she  bent  again  to  her  sewing  Patricia's 
woman's  eyes  detected  the  trembling  of  the  needle 
that  betrayed  her  whirl  of  frightened  thought.  A 
stealthy  glance  showed  Hertzer's  face,  cold,  gray,  un- 
warmed  by  the  gold  of  the  lamp ;  the  kindly  lines  gone ; 
nothing  left  but  the  old  suspicious  mask,  beneath  which 
the  delicate  antennae  of  her  fears  sensed  his  seething 
passion.  What  to  do?  The  black  jungle  had  fewer 
terrors  than  she  read  into  his  cold  face,  and  at  first 
she  thought  of  trying  to  steal  away  on  foot  to  Verda. 
But  if  the  case  were  desperate  as  that,  he  would 
surely  provide  against  her  escape.  Further  reflec 
tion  warned  against  any  deviation  from  her  usual 
programme.  Ignorant  as  she  was  of  the  fulness  of 
his  knowledge,  she  reasoned  that  his  spasm  of  jealousy 
would  probably  cool  through  the  night;  and  much 
as  she  disliked  Phelps,  she  thought  with  immense 
relief  of  his  statement — made  at  dinner — that  he 
would  stay  all  night.  For  the  present  she  must  ap 
pear  unconcerned.  So,  laying  aside  her  needlework, 
she  drew  a  chair  close  to  Patricia's  and  laughed, 
gossiped,  helped  to  play  her  hand,  displaying  anima 
tion  beyond  her  usual;  withal,  took  care  to  retire 
first,  in  view  of  a  possible  tete-a-tete. 

"And  we  can  ride  together  in  the  morning,"  she 
took  care  to  add,  saying  good-night  to  Phelps. 

Outside,  a  white  moon  rode  brilliantly,  etching  in 
warm  black  the  wandlike  branches,  pendent  leaves 
of  the  shading  rubber  on  the  pale  yellow  ribbon  of 
garden-path,  barring  the  pit  blackness  inside  her 

467 


THE   PLANTER 

jacale  with  soft  shafts  of  light.  Tiptoeing  to  her 
catre,  for  the  Yaqui  maid's  sleep-breathing  pulsed 
through  the  darkness,  she  sat  down,  but  had  no  more 
than  undone  the  first  button  of  her  waist  before 
Hertzer's  harsh  voice  floated  in  from  the  house,  and 
she  hastily  fastened  it  again. 

"I've  had  enough.  You  two  play  on — if  you 
like." 

"No  object  to  win  from  Patricia,"  came  Phelps's 
cackling  laugh.  "Her  hate  more  than  balances  the 
cash.  Bed  for  me." 

Followed  a  scrape  of  chairs,  and,  flying  across  the 
floor  as  the  screen-door  banged,  she  peeped  through 
the  pole-siding  and  saw  them  step  out  in  the  moon 
light.  So  light  it  was  she  could  see  the  smoke  of 
Phelps's  cigar  ascending  in  a  thin  white  spiral.  She 
shrank  as  Hertzer  glanced  her  way — shrank,  but  re 
turned  quickly  and  watched  till  his  bulk  faded 
among  the  shadowy  buildings.  She  could  still 
hear  them  talking,  caught  Phelps's  "good-night." 
Then,  while  her  heart  thrummed  like  a  low  drum  on 
the  silence,  she  waited,  waited,  waited — waited  till  a 
dark  figure  formed  again  out  of  the  shadows.  Up  the 
path  he  came  as  far  as  the  veranda,  then — her  heart 
actually  stopped  beating — turned  and  headed  straight 
for  her  door. 

With  a  low  gasp  of  fear  she  stepped  to  awaken 
her  maid ;  with  a  quick  change  of  intention  she  flew  to 
the  table  upon  which  lay  the  knife  Hertzer  had  lent 
her  to  sharpen  pencils  that  morning.  Two  strokes  cut 

468 


THE    "QUEEN"    IS    "CASTLED" 

the  slim  bejucas  which  bound  the  pole-siding  in  place, 
but,  as  she  made  to  shove  it  aside,  her  hand  recoiled 
from  a  prick  sharper,  more  painful,  than  that  of  a 
thorn — once  a  storehouse,  the  jacale  was  wired  from 
roof  to  ground. 

Turning,  knife  in  hand,  she  waited,  back  against 
the  wall,  eyes  straining  across  the  bars  of  moonlight 
to  the  door. 


xxvii 

THE    TRAVAIL    OP    A    NIGHT 

FRESH  gravel  had  been  spread  around  the  house 
in  readiness  for  the  rains,  and  Consuela  heard 
it  crunch  under  a  heavy  foot.  But  though  the  steps 
led  up  to  her  door,  it  neither  moved  nor  shook  during 
a  half-minute  of  breathless  waiting.  Surprised,  she 
then  edged  along,  back  flat  against  the  wall,  to  the 
corner,  and  peeped  through  the  siding.  Nothing 
moved  in  the  moonlight  without.  Another  minute 
of  strained  listening,  and  she  continued  her  sidling 
progress  along  that  wall  to  the  door,  peeped,  and — 
almost  laughed  in  her  relief;  for  there,  rolled  up  in  his 
zarape,  lay  old  Tomas,  face  turned  up  to  the  light, 
gently  snoring. 

Hard  on  the  heels  of  relief  came  weakness,  so  sud 
den  and  complete  that  she  collapsed  in  a  heap  by 
the  door.  But  with  a  return  of  nervousness,  she  sat 
up  to  renew  her  watch,  and  thus  saw  what  she  had 
nearly  missed — a  flutter  of  dull  crimson,  as  Patricia 
slid  from  the  dusk  under  the  eaves  into  the  shadows 
of  the  rubber  along  the  path.  With  her  disappear 
ance  among  the  buildings  ensued  a  murmur  of  voices, 

470 


THE   TRAVAIL   OF    A    NIGHT 

too  low  for  Consuela  to  catch  the  scorn  with  which 
the  girl  threw  the  responsibility  for  her  own  fault  on 
to  Phelps's  shoulders. 

"You  know  what  the  Padre  is,"  she  hissed,  through 
a  chink,  answering  his  mumbled  apologies,  "and  you 
shouldn't  have  done  it.  Now  he  has  put  Tomas  on 
guard  at  her  door.  Well,  you  got  her  into  it,  and  it 
is  you  that  will  have  to  get  her  out.  The  Padre  is 
prowling  around  somewhere,  so  don't  try  it  yet.  Give 
him  an  hour  to  get  to  bed,  then  have  the  veledor  bring 
out  your  horse — oh,  tell  him  anything,  that  you 
prefer  riding  by  moonlight,  and  don't  wish  to  wake 
the  house;  he's  stupid.  Go  softly,  but,  when  you  are 
once  away,  ride  hard  to  Las  Glorias  and  tell  the  Senor 
Ewing  that  I  said  he  must  come  for  her  at  once." 

Thus  it  was  that  —  long  after  Patricia  had  crept 
back  to  her  bed  with  mind  at  ease  concerning  the 
complexion  her  own  part  would  now  wear  in  the 
affair — thus  it  was  that  Consuela  came  to  hear  the 
faint  tramp  of  a  horse  an  hour  or  so  later.  Crediting 
the  sound,  however,  to  the  nervous  exhaustion  which 
was  causing  her  to  see  a  dozen  Hertzers  in  every 
shadow,  she  stole  back  to  her  catre  and  lay  down  fully 
dressed,  ears  still  trained  to  every  sound.  But  though 
she  waited,  waited  while  the  galera  bell  spaced  off 
the  hot  black  hours  with  recurrent  melancholy  toll 
ing,  waited  till  sleep  like  a  soft  thief  mercifully  stole 
her  anxieties,  she  heard  only  the  Yaqui  girl's  soft 
breathing,  punctuated  by  an  occasional  snore  from 
old  Tomas. 


THE    PLANTER 

For  Hertzer  was  in  the  jungle. 

After  routing  out  Tomas,  he  struck  straight  down 
the  plantation  road  to  its  end,  then  turned  on  to 
an  overgrown  path,  black  as  a  tunnel  save  where  an 
occasional  rift  of  moonlight  sliced  the  thick  darkness 
with  a  silver  blade.  Although  he  had  thirsted  all  day 
for  this  moment,  the  solitude  that  would  afford 
opportunity  to  pause,  think,  formulate  the  chaos  of 
impulses  behind  his  slow  shivers,  he  did  not  cast  off 
the  leash  at  once.  Though,  moreover,  he  had  realized 
in  the  mean  time  the  consequences  of  David's  victory, 
knew  that  it  sapped  his  ambition  in  its  foundations; 
though  chagrin  at  his  own  blindness  inflamed  jeal 
ousy;  though,  lastly,  the  memories  of  that  morning's 
hope,  soft  reflections,  now  lashed  his  raw  pride,  yet 
his  habit  of  cold  restraint  held  until,  mounting  with 
the  blood  of  exercise,  his  passion  overtopped,  flooded 
out  his  dams  of  stony  repression. 

But  when  they  went?  As,  just  then,  a  narrow 
glade  chanced  to  bisect  his  tunnel,  a  blaze  of  moon 
light  revealed  his  eyes,  glazed  and  snapping  like  fire 
behind  ice;  coarse  mouth  working,  face  writhed, 
twisted  in  every  line.  Thrust  pugnaciously  forward, 
his  heavy  chin  gave  his  profile  a  salience  that  was 
accentuated  by  the  Jew-hang  of  his  neck.  With 
club  arms  upraised,  thumbs  hooked  as  though  sunk 
in  soft  flesh,  he  was  inexpressibly  simian.  Divested 
of  human  semblance,  he  loomed  for  a  pause  in  that 
wonderful  tropical  moonlight,  mouthing,  clutching 
like  some  crazed  gorilla  ere  the  urge  of  his  passion 

472 


THE    TRAVAIL    OF   A    NIGHT 

drove  him  on  into  the  tunnel, — which  presently 
emerged  on  a  small  clearing  that  was  dotted  with  low 
mounds. 

It  was  his  secret  cemetery,  the  dark  annex — to  be 
found  on  every  plantation — established  partly  to 
avoid  the  trouble  and  expense  of  burial  and  registra 
tion  at  the  nearest  municipal  graveyard,  in  accord 
ance  with  the  law,  but  principally  to  avoid  the  shock 
which  might  accrue  to  even  a  lax  Mexican  public 
opinion  by  exposure  of  the  frightful  plantation  death 
rates.  Full  three  hundred  in  number,  harvest  of 
scant  five  years,  they  lay  under  his  eyes,  the  graves 
of  his  dead  slaves,  bathed  in  the  soft  peace  of  moon 
light. 

Coming  with  such  suddenness  upon  them — for  he 
had  taken  no  heed  of  the  path — he  might  have  been 
expected  to  evince  fright,  nervousness,  or  awe.  Only 
a  few  feet  away — if  rumor  did  not  lie — lay  one  whom 
he  had  killed  with  a  blow  of  his  iron  fist.  Not  one 
but  had  welcomed  the  death  that  gave  ease  from  his 
oppressions.  But  though  his  vivid  imagination 
peopled  the  glade  with  dim,  haggard  shapes,  his  sud 
den  scowl  displayed  only  an  accentuation  of  anger 
during  the  pause  he  stood  overlooking  their  shadowy 
number.  Perhaps  in  that  bitter  moment  he  felt  their 
quiet  sleep  as  an  affront  which  mocked  his  turmoil 
with  its  untroubled  peace.  Some  emanation  of  re 
proach  certainly  penetrated  through  his  whirl  of  pas 
sion,  for,  straining  to  his  full  height,  he  shook  his  big 
fist  at  the  graves. 

««  473 


THE    PLANTER 

"I'd  do  it  again!  God  d you  all,  I'd  do  it 

again!" 

Here  the  path  ended,  but  his  machete  hung  at  his 
shoulder;  unsheathing  it  as  he  crossed  the  glade  be 
tween  graves,  he  crashed  like  a  bull  in  pain  through 
the  light  outer  brush,  and  plunged  on,  mowing  his 
way  with  right  and  left  strokes.  Usually  he  would 
have  dropped  into  the  bed  of  anarroyo  to  skirt  around 
inextricable  bejuca  tangles,  but  in  the  fury  that  sought 
only  an  outlet  for  the  passion  that  smothered  thought, 
clogged  purpose,  he  bored  through  dense  thickets, 
pressed  on,  insensible  of  direction  save  that,  bearing 
always  toward  the  checkered  light  which  bespoke  the 
clear  under  tall  trees,  he  unconsciously  followed  the 
circle  of  the  moon.  One  hour,  two,  three,  he  followed 
her  pale  guidance;  at  first  from  choice,  later  with  the 
idea  of  getting  back  home,  followed  until,  dripping 
with  sweat — for  even  his  enormous  strength  felt  the 
drain  of  such  furious  exertion  in  the  thick  hot  night — 
he  came  out  on  a  path  and  sat  down  to  rest,  the 
madness  gone  with  the  gorged  blood  from  his  brain. 

Not  that  he  was  less  angry,  for  if  his  passion  had 
burned  down  to  red  coals,  it  burst  again  into  flame 
under  the  slightest  breath  of  his  thought.  As,  after 
a  short  rest,  he  rose  and  pursued  the  path,  anger, 
jealousy,  rancor  of  disappointed  ambition  possessed 
him  in  turn.  When,  with  a  vicious  "Heugh!"  he 
sliced  a  six-inch  bejuca,  it  was  David's  head  that  fell. 
The  hands  that  shot  up  above  the  simian  mask  of  lust, 
clutched  Consuela's  flesh.  A  scintillant  blaze,  green 

474 


THE    TRAVAIL    OF   A    NIGHT 

as  the  blink  of  a  wolf,  defied  David,  Ewing,  Fate  itself 
to  take  her  from  him.  Anger,  jealousy,  rancor,  lust, 
they  ruled  him,  the  worst  of  his  passions — all  save 
avarice,  for,  to  do  him  justice,  this  meanest  of  all  had 
no  place  in  their  evil  census.  Not  once  had  he  paused 
to  count  the  cost — of  loss  or  revenge.  And  he  needs 
this  further  justice.  One  by  one  the  more  ignoble 
were  vanquished  by  the  others.  Desire  and  lust,  with 
their  wild  imaginings,  mental  degradations,  were  con 
sumed  in  the  bright  flame  of  his  anger,  leaving  him 
possessed  by  a  nobler,  if  deadlier  hate,  passion  of 
revenge;  burned  out  so  completely  that  the  ashes 
refused  even  a  glow  to  a  sight  that  might  otherwise 
have  raised  a  soaring  flame — the  pair  of  lovers  whom 
he  found  by  the  trail. 

Though  the  path  had  seemed  familiar,  there  had 
been  nothing  in  its  dim  succession  of  glades,  tangles, 
long  dark  temples  roofed  with  black  lace  and  silver, 
to  distinguish  it  from  any  of  a  dozen  others,  but  now 
he  knew.  Since  the  pair  stole  out  from  his  new  camp 
to  bed  in  the  shadows  on  a  couch  of  leaves,  the  moon 
had  sailed  a  quarter  circle,  and  now,  breaking  down 
through  a  rift  in  the  foliage,  betrayed  their  tryst, 
showed  the  man's  arm  lying  across  the  girl's  opulent 
bust.  Unconscious  of  Hertzer's  frown,  they  slept 
on  in  the  full  fruition  of  the  love  that  had  been  denied 
his  hope  that  day;  for  the  carpet  of  leaves  which  had 
deadened  his  approach  masked  his  passage  as  he  went 
by  to  drain  his  cup  of  its  dregs. 

By  what  strange  fate  had  he  been  guided — first  to 
475 


THE    PLANTER 

the  graves,  next  to  this,  the  edifice  he  had  tried  to 
erect  on  their  ghastly  foundation,  a  ruin  before  com 
pletion?  A  minute,  and  they  rose  before  him,  the 
roofs  of  his  new  camp,  pale  gold  fretted  with  sharp 
shadows,  with  here  and  there  the  red  eye  of  a  watch- 
fire  winking  in  the  midst  of  a  duller  inflammation, 
the  crimson  garments  of  sleeping  women.  There  it 
lay,  the  great  camp  of  his  visionings — without  a 
function.  For  well  he  knew  that  with  Verda  and 
Las  Glorias  gone,  it  would  hardly  pay  to  contract 
labor  to  the  smaller  plantations.  True,  the  Isthmus, 
with  scores  of  abandoned  plantations,  still  remained? 
Equally  true  that  every  dollar  so  far  expended  had 
come  out  of  the  pockets  of  Osgood  &  Short?  But 
the  beginnings  had  been  here,  and  a  dozen  years  of 
scheming,  saving,  would  be  required  to  bring  them 
again. 

A  dozen  years?  Forty-six — fifty-six — fifty-eight? 
He  would  then  be  nearly  sixty — at  the  end  of  his 
prime  ?  It  wasn't  worth  while !  And  as,  in  opposition 
to  this  cruel  fact,  there  flashed  up  in  his  memory  the 
vision  of  wealth  and  power  he  had  seen  from  this  very 
spot  less  than  a  month  ago,  he  was  seized  with  a  con 
vulsion,  agony  of  despairing  hate,  consuming  desire 
for  revenge. 

Tall  jungle  masked  the  eastern  sky,  but  as  he  stood 
overlooking  the  camp,  steeped  in  thoughts  of  reprisals, 
the  deep  indigo  above  thinned  out  to  dark  gray,  the 
moon's  waxen  pallor  warned  him  that  his  passion  had 
outworn  the  night.  As  he  had  come  out  of  the 

476 


THE    TRAVAIL   OF    A    NIGHT 

jungle  on  the  trail  that  led  in  to  the  plateau  from 
Phelps's  place,  the  camp  lay  between  him  and  home, 
and  having  no  stomach  for  the  curiosity  his  presence 
on  foot  at  that  hour  would  excite  in  the  Zacatecores, 
he  footed  softly  back  past  the  lovers  to  come  round 
by  the  longer  way. 

A  stiff  walk  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  daylight  caught 
him  at  the  forks  of  the  main  trail.  The  sun  rose  as 
he  crossed  the  La  Luna  boundary.  But,  early  as  it 
was,  other  travellers  were  both  before  and  behind  him 
— Ewing,  then  coming  along  at  a  fast  gallop  a  mile 
or  so  away;  Magdaleno,  who,  roused  by  Phelps  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  had  taken  horse  at  once  without 
waiting  for  the  morning. 

Of  the  latter  Hertzer  now  received  news  from  the 
senior  cabo,  whom  he  met  herding  the  Yaquis  out  to 
the  field.  "It  is  that  he  comes  to  Tomas  in  the  dead 
of  night  with  a  tale  that  little  Anita,  the  senorita's 
favorite  scholar,  is  sick  unto  death,  and  when  Tomas 
answers  him  that  it  is  not  meet  to  break  the  young 
mistress's  sleep  for  a  brat  of  an  enganchador,  he  outs 
with  the  machete,  this  Magdaleno,  and  clouts  Tomas 
over  the  head." 

"And  he  took  her  away?"  Now  only  half  a  mile 
away,  Ewing  heard  the  boom  of  the  great  voice. 

"No,  senor."  The  cabo  touched  a  bloody  cloth 
that  bound  his  head.  "At  Tomas's  yell  we  ran — and 
were  needed.  He  fought  like  the  seven  devils  of 
Quatla,  and  it  took  the  six  of  us  to  beat  him  down. 
He  now  lies  in  the  galera." 

477 


THE    PLANTER 

"And  Tomas?" 

The  man  grinned.  "His  thick  head  was  none  the 
worse  of  it,  senor.  He  still  guards  the  door." 

Moving  on,  Hertzer  had  barely  gained  half-way 
home  before  Ewing  overtook  him.  Ignorant,  as  yet, 
of  Phelps's  departure,  he  could  not  suspect  the  planter 
of  having  received  warning;  nor  would  it  have  made 
any  difference  if  he  had;  ready,  ay,  thirsting  for  open 
war,  he  turned  at  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  blackly 
glowering. 

"Fine  morning,  you  say?  Humph!  You  must 
have  started  in  the  middle  of  the  night." 

Now,  if  Ewing  had  known  the  extent  of  the  other's 
knowledge,  he  would  not  have  attempted  further 
subterfuge.  But  as  Phelps  had  taken  care  to  paint 
the  affair  in  the  light  of  an  uncomfortable  situation 
following  a  careless  jest,  he  was  doing  his  best  to 
justify  his  early  appearance  when  Hertzer  suddenly 
cut  him  off. 

"Nonsense,  you  didn't  come  out  this  early  to  see 
me.  Out  with  it!  You  are  after  the  girl." 

"I  did  think  of" — riding  back  with  her,  he  was 
going  to  say,  but  Hertzer  again  burst  in — "carrying 
her  off  to  Las  Glorias  to  laugh  with  you  at  me?" 

"What  do  I  mean?"  Swelling  to  his  full  height, 
he  stood  for  a  moment  covering  the  other  with  his 
black  glower,  then  out  it  came,  the  full  knowledge  he 
had  from  David's  letter,  in  a  breathless  storm  of 
words.  Finishing,  his  voice  dropped  from  its  boom 
ing  anger  to  a  quiet  that  was  wicked  in  its  slow 

478 


THE   TRAVAIL   OF   A    NIGHT 

suppression.  "So  you  set  her  on  to  fool  me  with 
her  smiles  and  soft  sympathy  while  you  stole  Verda 
out  of  my  hands  ?  Weren't  you  afraid  ?  Didn't  you 
pause  long  enough  to  think  of  what  a  dangerous 
game  she  was  playing?  Man!"  he  boomed  out  again. 
"Man!  I'd  break  you — break  the  two  of  you  with  my 
bare  hands  —  if  it  wasn't  that  I  can  hurt  you  more 
through  her.  She's  played?  Now  let  her  pay." 

Though  he  flushed  at  the  threat,  Ewing  restrained 
himself  from  active  resentment,  and  answered  with 
quiet  good  humor:  "If  you  must  have  a  victim,  I 
would  rather  it  were  me.  But  come,  come,  Hertzer, 
be  reasonable;  look  facts  in  the  face.  I  don't  know 
where  you  obtained  your  information,  but  granting 
it  is  true,  I  fail  to  see  where  you  are  wronged.  You 
tried  to  do  up  David,  to  take  Verda,  in  which  every 
penny  of  his  mother's  fortune  is  invested,  and  you 
can't  blame  him  for  defending  himself.  As  for  my 
interest — it  came  naturally  out  of  his  efforts." 

"  David  ?"  The  glower  drew  into  a  sneer.  "  If  he'd 
sat  quiet  when  he  first  came  down,  instead  of  trying 
to  teach  old  planters  their  business,  I'd  have  been  his 
good  neighbor.  Even  when  he  was  breeding  discon 
tent  with  his  measly  reforms  and  flouted  his  damned 
morals  in  my  face,  I  let  him  alone.  It  wasn't  until 
the  prig  refused  me  his  hand  after  coming  between 
me  and  my  slave  that  I  started  to  do  him  up.  Looks 
as  though  I  hadn't  made  much  of  a  success,"  he 
added,  with  a  sour  grin,  "but  at  least  I've  got  the 
girl. 

479 


THE   PLANTER 

"What  has  she  done?"  he  repeated,  defiantly. 
"That  is  for  me  to  know,  and  I  don't  have  to  chop 
logic  with  you  about  it.  Sufficient  that  she's  to  pay." 
His  manner  was  so  obstinately  resolute  that  Ewing 
cried  out,  in  sharp  alarm:  "Take  care,  Hertzer!  If 
you  mistreat  her,  you'll  raise  every  planter  on  the 
Isthmus  against  you." 

"Yes?"  he  sneered  again.  "They  have  all  been  so 
good  to  the  Mexican  women  in  their  own  galeras. 
Their  cabores  don't  gamble  for  what's  left  after 
they've  taken  the  pick  for  themselves?" 

"Look  here,  Hertzer,"  Ewing  earnestly  reasoned, 
"Consuela  is  no  enganchada,  but  a  girl  of  good  breed 
ing,  delicately  reared." 

"  Good  breeding  ?"  He  broke  out  in  harsh  mockery 
of  laughter.  "In  other  words,  she  possesses  a  trifle 
more  than  the  ordinary  greaser  of  the  blood  of  the 
Spaniards,  who  debauched  the  Aztec  mothers.  Deli 
cately  reared,  eh?  by  La  Senora  Morales,  who  has 
sold  hundreds  as  good  as  herself  to  the  slavery  of  the 
galeras  ?  And  now  you  raise  hands  of  horror  because 
she  must  travel  their  road." 

"What!"  Ewing  gasped  his  unbelief  of  the  sugges 
tion.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  intend  to 
enganchar  her?" 

"Maybe- — and  why  not?  A  Mexican  woman  more 
or  less  doesn't  cut  much  figure  in  the  cook-house.  In 
fact,  I'm  a  trifle  short-handed  at  present — only  have 
five  women  to  grind  tortillas  for  fifty  men." 

His  sudden  sardonic  grin  prompted  Ewing  to  try 
480 


THE   TRAVAIL   OF   A    NIGHT 

again.  "  Oh,  come,  you  know  you're  joking.  What's 
done  is  done.  Let's  shake  hands  all  round  and  settle 
down  to  be  good  friends  and  neighbors.  I'll  ride  in 
with  you  to  breakfast  before  I  take  her  home?" 

But  the  other  drew  back  from  his  outstretched  hand. 
"Joking  or  not,  you  won't  ride  in — unless  you  wish 
to  join  Magdaleno  in  the  galera.  As  for  taking  her 
home?"  His  grin  grew  offensive  with  its  evil  sug 
gestion.  "Don't  trouble.  I'll  send  her  home — after 
a  while." 

With  a  shrug  of  his  big  shoulders,  he  strode  on,  nor 
paused,  though  he  answered  Ewing's  last  warning. 
"Remember,  you'll  raise  the  Isthmus  against  you?" 

"Let  it  rise.  I'm  short-handed,  as  I  told  you,  and 
I'll  enganchar  the  bunch  to  work  in  the  fields." 

Arrived  at  the  buildings,  he  did  not  go  near  the 
house.  Entering  Tomas's  jacale,  he  had  the  woman 
prepare  coffee,  then  went  to  the  store  to  wait  on  a 
Zacateco  customer;  thereafter  served  out  the  galera 
rations  of  corn,  rice,  and  bones  for  soup  to  the  cook 
house  women;  busied  himself  throughout  the  morn 
ing  with  the  usual  affairs  of  the  day.  There  was  no 
hurry.  Besides  the  malicious  pleasure  he  took  in  the 
thought  of  Consuela's  suspense,  the  coming  of  night 
was  necessary  to  a  refinement  of  the  revenge  he  had 
in  contemplation.  So  to  guard  against  premature 
explosion  of  the  passion  that  shook  him  at  intervals, 
at  noon  he  followed  after  the  mule  which  carried 
tortillas  and  frijoles  for  the  mid-day  meal  to  the  men 
in  the  field. 

481 


THE    PLANTER 

Sitting  out  there,  in  the  shade  of  the  rubber,  he 
made  a  curious  study  of  his  cabos'  faces  as  they 
grouped  around  the  mule.  Coarse  brutes,  the  bad 
men  of  the  Isthmus  tribes  who  had  drifted  through 
sheer  fitness  into  his  service,  their  loose  mouths, 
squat  heads,  distended  nostrils  of  squat  noses,  indi 
cated  ineffable  grossness,  yet,  studying  them,  his  face 
evidenced  a  fierce  satisfaction  as  though  they  fitted 
his  purpose.  He  thrilled  with  an  exultance  so 
furiously  savage  that  he  had  to  turn  away  his  face. 
And  it  seized  him  again,  that  fierce  exultation.  As, 
later,  he  sat  on  a  stump  overlooking  the  work  in  place 
of  the  cabo  he  had  sent  to  relieve  Tomas's  watch,  it 
seized  and  shook  him  at  intervals  with  a  frenzy  that 
caused  him  to  spring  up  and  pace  back  and  forth  the 
length  of  the  line. 

It  was  while  walking  off  one  of  these  excesses  that 
he  paused  opposite  the  Yaqui  cabo.  Observing  him, 
a  trifle  of  malevolence  adulterated  the  speculation  in 
his  glance,  the  characteristic  look  of  question,  such 
a  one  as  a  hardened  inquisitor  might  have  bestowed 
on  his  victim  ere  he  gave  a  last  turn  to  the  rack. 
Subtle  insolence  inhered  in  his  remark: 

"Thy  men  work  well." 

"They  work  well." 

As,  omitting  the  usual  glib  senor,  and  without  even 
looking  his  way,  the  Yaqui  gave  answer,  a  flicker  of 
approval  lightened  Hertzer's  malevolence,  but  vanish 
ed  as  he  spoke  again.  "Had  they  fought  as  well  as 
they  work — " 

482 


THE    TRAVAIL   OF   A    NIGHT 

It  returned,  however,  and  in  greater  measure  as, 
still  looking  to  his  front  the  other  parried  the  taunt. 
"We  be  greater  than  thou,'  said  the  buzzards  to  the 
wounded  hawk." 

"But  Mexicans?"  Hertzer  continued  his  malicious 
probing.  "Had  the  gringo  conquered  thee,  there 
could  have  been  no  question.  But"  —  he  used  the 
contemptuous  nickname  of  the  American  border — 
"greasers?" 

"The  coyotes  in  their  swarms  devoured  the  moun 
tain-lion." 

"  I  heard  it  the  other  way — that  the  coyote  lay  with 
the  she-lion.  Is  it  true,  as  the  Mexicans  say,  that  the 
cowardly  Gentilos  crept  into  the  tents  of  the  Yaquis 
and  begot  a  base  spawn  while  the  hunters  were  away  ?" 

Uttering  the  insult,  a  gleam  of  expectation  replaced 
curiosity  in  his  look,  and  gave  way  to  disappoint 
ment  when  the  other's  stoicism  withstood  the  insult. 
Receiving  no  answer,  he  suddenly  asked,  "What  is 
that  mark  on  thy  neck?" 

"Ask  thy  machete." 

"And  thy  throat?" 

"The  teeth  of  the  hound  that  saved  thee  thy  head." 

"Ah,  yes,  the  hound."  Head  thrust  out,  eyes 
gleaming,  teeth  showing  through  his  grin,  he  went  on: 
"I  had  thought  it  a  woman.  The  hound?  Bueno! 
But  see,  here  is  no  hound!"  Interpreting  the  man's 
swift  glance,  he  added:  "The  cabores,  is  it,  with  the 
rifles?  But  some  day  .  .  .  when  there  are  no  cabores 
.  .  .  neither  a  rifle — " 

483 


THE    PLANTER 

"I  shall  kill  thee." 

The  conviction,  absolute  certainty  in  his  sudden, 
dark  glance  would  have  given  most  men  pause,  but 
Hertzer  only  laughed  as  he  walked  away — to  return 
again  and  again  during  the  afternoon.  Under  urge 
of  his  freakish  humor,  he  sometimes  talked  seriously 
of  the  Yaqui  wars,  plying  the  man  with  questions 
that  revealed  both  knowledge  and  sympathetic  under 
standing.  "God!"  he  cried,  once,  "why  did  you  do 
that?  Couldn't  you  see  they'd  get  you?"  And 
again  at  the  tale  of  a  battle,  "I'd  have  given  a  leg  to 
be  there!"  Yet  on  the  very  next  round  he  would 
renew  the  baiting,  tempt  mutiny  with  taunts  and 
insults,  in  which  curious  alternation  the  afternoon 
slid  away,  for  not  until  he  followed  the  haggard  line 
in  through  a  hot  red  dusk  did  his  mood  change. 

Then  he  relapsed  into  ominous  quiet.  Despatching 
the  sick,  feeding  the  well,  he  spoke  hardly  a  word — 
was  equally  taciturn  when,  having  eaten  the  meal 
Tomas's  woman  served  in  the  store,  he  called  four  of 
his  cabos  before  him. 

"You  can  throw  a  riata?"  he  asked,  and,  receiving 
assent  from  all,  gave  his  orders.  "You,  Angel,  will 
go  to  the  forks  of  Senor  Carruthers'  trail  with  Pedro — 
while  Timoteo  and  Pancha  lie  in  the  madera  across 
the  ford.  If  the  train  be  anywhere  near  its  time, 
Don  David  should  pass  on  one  or  other  road  in  the 
next  hour.  To  whosoever  he  falls,  see  that  you  make 
a  sure  cast  about  the  arms,  then  bring  him  to  me — 
alive." 

484 


THE    TRAVAIL    OF    A    NIGHT 

Left  alone,  he  relapsed  into  heavy  brooding;  sat 
for  a  long  time,  chin  on  hand,  elbow  propped  on  the 
rough  table.  His  lamp  threw  a  golden  glow  over  tins 
of  chilis,  galletas,  boxes  and  barrels  ranged  along  the 
walls,  with  piles  of  maise  and  frijoles  in  sacks,  showed 
the  gay  cottons  that  shared  a  few  shelves  with  his 
small  stock  of  American  canned  goods.  Outside,  a 
dull  glare,  barred  with  black,  told  that  his  women 
were  still  at  work  on  the  tortillas  for  the  morrow's 
dark  breakfast;  and  in  through  the  open  door  came 
the  noises  of  the  night — confused  mutter  from  the 
galera,  wranglings  of  two  cabos  over  a  game  of  Mexican 
•monte,  laughter  of  Tomas's  woman  as  he  growled  and 
grumbled  at  the  tedium  of  his  watch,  the  low  singing 
in  nasal  falsetto  of  the  cabo  who  had  relieved  him. 
But  he  neither  saw  nor  heard.  Turned  to  the  light, 
his  face  showed  a  dark  quiet,  brows  bent  over  eyes 
that  were  narrowed  in  retrospection;  for  by  some 
process  of  association  he  was  carried  far  back  in 
the  past.  As  in  a  series  of  moving  pictures,  he  saw 
the  current  of  his  life  flowing  across  the  warm  curtain 
of  night  at  the  open  door. 

Working,  loving,  spending,  fighting,  he  saw  himself 
doing  one  or  another  under  urge  of  impulses  and  in 
stinct  that  had  come  down  to  him  from  he  knew  not 
where,  and  which  reacted  against  conditions  that  he 
had  not  made,  could  not  control.  He  saw  Hertzer, 
the  boy,  brawling  in  the  hot,  fetid  slums  of  tropical 
ports ;  Hertzer  the  trader,  cheating  both  for  the  love  of 
it  and  lest  he  himself  be  cheated ;  Hertzer,  the  planter, 

485 


THE    PLANTER 

extracting  the  life  essences  of  his  miserable  contract 
slaves,  bleeding  the  companies  he  served,  trampling, 
in  the  instinct  that  shoved  him  forward,  all  who  stood 
in  the  way.  And  to  his  hot  mind  it  all  seemed  logical 
—  for  the  boy  to  strike  when  he,  was  stricken,  to  love 
when  a  woman  smiled;  for  the  man  to  mount  on  the 
bodies  of  those  who  would  have  made  a  stepping- 
stone  of  him;  nor  could  he  see  an  opening  through 
which  either  might  have  escaped  that  set  course. 
Granting  those  inherited  instincts  at  work  within 
fixed  conditions,  it  was  all  inevitable  as  a  doom;  and 
with  the  thought  of  himself  as  a  blind  atom  awhirl  in  a 
process  of  life,  there  arose  within  him,  first  a  sense  of 
injury  at  the  fate  which  had  cast  his  birth  amid  the 
fierce  squalor  of  the  Trieste  boarding-house;  then  a 
feeling  of  justification  for  all  that  he  had  done  or  had 
it  in  mind  to  do. 

"Nine  o'clock."  He  rose  and  glanced  at  his  watch 
after  an  hour  of  that  black  brooding.  Then  mutter 
ing,  "He  ought  to  be  here  now;  I'll  give  him  another 
hour,"  he  went  outside  and  stood  for  a  while  gazing 
at  the  moon,  the  red  moon  which  had  just  peeped 
at  David  over  the  top  of  the  trees. 

It  was  the  hour  at  which  he  invariably  visited  the 
galera,  and  after  the  moon's  bronze  paled  to  silver  he 
walked  over  and  entered  the  building.  At  one  end 
a  screen  of  barbed  wire  fenced  off  a  few  feet  of  the 
building  into  a  sort  of  room,  wherein  the  veledor 
could  hold  the  night  watch  safe  from  the  weather, 
and,  peering  through  it,  Hertzer  saw  a  dim  figure 

486 


THE    TRAVAIL    OF    A    NIGHT 

pacing  and  repacing  the  aisle  between  long  rows  of 
bunks. 

"It  is  Magdaleno,"  the  veledor  whispered.  "He 
walks  it  thus  since  morning." 

Turning  at  the  whisper,  the  mandador's  face  was 
revealed  by  the  dim  light  of  a  single  lantern,  bruised 
and  caked  with  dry  blood,  eyes  burning  hotly  beneath 
a  soiled  bandage.  For  a  space  he  stood,  looking  their 
way,  but  they  were  lost  in  thick  darkness  behind  the 
screen,  and,  crediting  the  whisper  to  some  dreamer, 
he  walked  on  to  the  far  end  of  the  aisle.  As,  return 
ing,  he  again  approached  the  light,  a  man  raised  on 
his  elbow  in  the  upper  tier  of  bunks,  and  Hertzer 
recognized  the  Yaqui  cabo.  Their  voices  came  to  him 
only  as  a  murmur,  but  it  was  easy  to  read  the  sym 
pathy  in  the  man's  dark  face.  A  man  less  mad 
would  have  been  impressed,  at  least,  by  that  sinister 
whispering,  but  Hertzer  merely  grinned  when,  as 
the  mandador's  voice  rose  a  tone,  he  caught  the 
words  "Don  David"  coupled  with  "manana." 

"Nay,"  he  muttered,  going  out.  "If  Timoteo 
has  any  luck,  you  shall  have  him  with  you  to 
night." 

Returning  to  the  store,  he  resumed  his  reverie,  only 
this  time  his  thought  did  not  go  back  of  the  bitter 
present.  Once  more  his  passions  swept  him  in  unruled 
alternation,  and  as  he  sat  staring  at  the  lamp  for  the 
better  part  of  an  hour  his  face  clearly  mirrored  their 
changes,  now  lighting  to  a  flash  of  emotion,  again 
darkening  under  a  quick  frown.  At  the  close  of  the 

487 


THE    PLANTER 

hour  a  sudden  gray  writhing  marked  his  realization 
of  a  grim  joke  of  fate. 

Driven  by  centuries  of  oppression  to  build  his 
happiness  within  his  family  circle,  domesticity  has 
become  first  nature  with  the  Jew,  and  though  hate 
now  possessed  Hertzer  in  place  of  love,  though  the 
very  memory  of  his  infatuation  caused  him  angry 
loathing,  it  had  yet  opened  vistas  of  a  softer  life  that 
could  not  but  appeal  to  the  son  of  his  Jew  mother. 
The  stronger  for  that  hate  was  it  borne  in  upon  him 
that  the  succession  of  mistresses  at  his  hearth  had 
sat  there  in  default  of  the  one,  the  wife  who  alone  could 
make  his  house  a  home  with  the  prattle  of  herself  and 
children.  Very  clearly,  he  saw  how  the  fates  had 
tangled  him  in  the  net  he  had  spread  for  his  enemy. 
For  while  he  had  tried,  first,  to  win  Consuela  in  despite 
of  David,  her  small  hands  had  reached  down  through 
his  feeling  and  unloosed  an  enormous  domestic 
instinct.  Come  what  might,  let  him  glut  himself 
with  revenge,  the  hungers  she  had  aroused  would  still 
remain  for  his  torture,  the  happiness  he  had  glimpsed 
through  her  was  gone  forever.  With  burning  resent 
ment  he  realized  it,  with  a  deadliness  of  hate  that 
brought  him  to  his  feet  with  a  venomous  oath. 

"  Half  after  ten."  He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  He's 
stayed  all  night  with  Carruthers.  I'll  wait  no  longer." 

His  pistols  lay  with  his  machete  upon  the  counter, 

but  in  that  sudden  rush  of  feeling   he  forgot   both 

them  and  the  light,  which  sent  a  yellow  stream  after 

him  out  through  the  open  door.      Round  the  corner, 

488 


THE    TRAVAIL    OF    A    NIGHT 

into  the  garden,  he  was  borne  on  that  angry  tide — 
there  to  receive  a  check,  for  at  the  click  of  the  gate 
Patricia  moved  out  of  the  shadows  under  the  rubber 
and  stood  in  his  path. 

All  through  that  day  the  girl  had  lived  in  a  hell  of 
mean  fear,  under  a  strain  that  had  drawn  haggard 
lines  about  her  full  mouth  and  drained  her  healthy 
colors.  It  was  not  that  she  repented  her  treachery  or 
was  sorry  for  Consuela.  Safe-guarded  against  remorse 
by  her  natural  vindictiveness,  she  would  have  looked 
calmly  on  while  events  took  their  course  if  there  had 
been  no  after  consequences.  But,  thinking  of  these, 
she  had  cowered  before  the  storm  of  her  own  raising, 
strove  vainly  to  avert  its  bursting. 

The  quality  of  her  feeling  displayed  itself  in  her 
pleading.  " Padre!  Padre!  Please  don't!  If  you 
harm  her,  none  of  our  white  neighbors  will  ever  speak 
to  us  again." 

Though  the  moonlight  blanched  her  cold  face  until 
the  eyes  shone  dark  and  wide  in  the  -midst  of  its 
whiteness,  like  the  picture  of  some  distressed  saint,  he 
instantly  detected  the  underlying  selfishness.  "The 
neighbors,  is  it?  Pity  you  didn't  think  of  them 
before.  Is  it  only  for  them  you  plead  ?  Off  with  you 
to  bed." 

But  as  he  thrust  her  aside  she  leaped  upon  him, 
locked  her  fingers  around  his  neck,  babbling  her 
selfish  fears.  "You  sha'n't!  I  tell  you,  you  sha'n't 
spoil  my  every  chance.  Only  the  other  night  the 
Senor  Boulton—  You  sha'n't!  Sha'n't!" 
s*  489 


THE    PLANTER 

His  hands  went  up  to  break  her  grip,  but,  wheeling 
to  a  sudden  change  of  purpose,  he  carried  her  back 
to  the  store,  threw  her  in,  and  locked  the  door  in  the 
face  of  her  rush.  As  he  went  back  up  the  path,  she 
ran  across  the  store  and  called  to  him  through  the 
siding,  renewed  her  prayers  and  pleadings,  but  he 
held  right  on.  In  another  minute  he  was  standing 
at  Consuela's  door  watching  the  cabo  shuffle  through 
the  moonlight  toward  his  own  jacale.  When  he  was 
swallowed  in  the  shadowy  buildings  Hertzer  lifted  the 
latch. 


XXVIII 

THE    SINS    OF   THE    FATHERS 

A3  the  door  swung  under  his  hand,  Hertzer  found 
himself  facing  Consuela,  for  she  had  risen  when 
he  dismissed  the  cdbo. 

In  his  furious  mental  excesses  he  had  lived  this 
moment  a  thousand  times  over,  feeding  his  passion 
fat  with  pictures  of  her  in  a  hundred  attitudes  of 
nervous  fear,  but,  as  is  usual,  the  reality  differed 
widely  from  his  imaginings — so  widely  that  he  gave 
pause,  stood  staring  at  the  soft  picture  she  made. 
For,  straining  up  through  a  shade  of  crape  paper,  the 
light  of  her  lamp  diffused  about  her  a  mellow  rose 
dusk  that  toned  out  the  circles  beneath  her  eyes  and 
warmed  her  nervous  pallors.  The  hand  that  rested 
lightly  on  the  table  did  not  shake. 

Not  that  she  was  unafraid.  Roused  in  the  night 
by  the  cries  and  curses  which  attended  Magdalene's 
subjugation,  she  had  lived  through  a  day  of  tremors, 
rendered  more  unbearable  by  thoughts  of  David's  re 
turn.  Ignorant  of  the  vexatious  derailments  that  had 
delayed  his  train,  she  had  pictured  him  in  the  crazy 
depot  at  early  morning;  thereafter  had  followed  his 

491 


THE   PLANTER 

ride  in  the  sticky  heat  of  the  jungle,  watched  him  at 
three-o'clock  lunch  with  Carruthers — she  felt  sure  he 
would  come  that  way — accompanied  him  in  thought 
every  step  of  the  way  until,  at  sundown,  her  anxiety 
and  disappointment  found  vent  in  a  bitter  cry: 

"Now  he  is  passing  La  Luna,  far  out  on  the  trail! 
Soon  he  will  be  at  Verda,  and  oh,  I  shall  not  be 
there!" 

Nor  had  she  derived  much  comfort  from  Patricia's 
consolations.  When,  with  profuse  apologies,  Tomas, 
nevertheless,  refused  to  permit  even  the  Yaqui  maid 
to  pass  his  guard,  Patricia  had  brought  in  their  meals, 
remaining  thereafter  to  lighten  the  burden  of  her  own 
fears  with  attempts  at  reassurance. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  she  had  said,  while  trying  to 
persuade  Consuela  to  break  her  fast.  "He  stayed 
out  in  the  jungle  all  night,  and  will  come  home  tired 
and  cured  of  his  foolish  anger." 

"He  is  ashamed,"  she  commented,  as,  later,  they 
heard  him  booming  his  orders.  "  He  will  send  orders 
presently  for  Tomas  to  let  you  free." 

Though  her  own  hope  died  when  he  went  out  to 
the  fields,  she  simulated  even  greater  confidence. 
"  It  is  better  so.  He  will  have  the  longer  to  cool." 

"  Now  I  shall  speak  to  him  at  dinner,"  she  cried  at 
night.  "  There  will  be  a  beautiful  moon,  so  we  shall 
ride,  you  and  I,  over  to  Las  Glorias.  Quien  sabe? 
Don  David  may  overtake  us  on  the  way." 

Unable,  however,  to  brazen  it  out  any  longer 
when  his  absence  from  dinner  brought  the  end  of  her 

492 


THE   SINS    OF    THE    FATHERS 

shifts,  she  sent  their  meal  in,  then  stole  out  and  down 
the  path  to  lie  in  horrible  fear  under  the  shadowy 
rubber,  the  prey  of  her  own  revenge.  So  all  evening 
Consuela  had  had  for  company  only  the  little  Yaqui 
maid,  who  squatted  on  the  floor  at  her  feet  immersed 
in  a  picture-book,  a  position  which  emphasized  her 
undersize. 

She  was,  indeed,  so  small  for  her  sixteen  years  that 
Hertzer  had  used  her  at  odd  work:  to  run  errands, 
drive  the  water  mule,  weed  in  his  garden.  A  milder 
slavery  than  that  of  the  metates,  it  had  yet  taxed  the 
limit  of  her  small  strength.  From  dawn  to  dark  she 
either  bent  at  the  weeding  till  her  small  back  ached 
and  blood  mixed  with  the  dirt  on  her  grubby  fingers, 
or  lifted  leaden  legs  up  and  down  the  steep  river- 
bank  after  the  water  mule,  and  always  a  cuff  and 
curse  from  cabo  or  mandador  waited  at  the  end  of  her 
errands.  And  her  small  soul  had  hardened  under 
the  usage,  the  stubborn  Yaqui  soul  that  would  not 
down  even  in  this,  a  fledgling  girl.  Never  a  cuff — 
unless  it  came  from  Hertzer — that  did  not  earn  a 
well-flung  stone;  never  a  curse  but  drew  her  shrill 
malediction.  So  hard  had  she  grown  that  Con 
suela  had  despaired  at  first  of  ever  being  able  to  get 
beneath  her  sullen  exterior;  and  when  she  did  begin 
to  soften,  her  thawings  had  alternated  with  sudden 
freezings  until  to-day.  As  though  she  divined  with 
out  understanding  her  mistress*  trouble,  she  had  been 
unusually  thoughtful  and  gentle;  the  sloe  eyes  that 
now  rose  ever  and  anon  from  her  book  glowed  with 

493 


THE   PLANTER 

sympathy,  and,  catching  her  eye  just  before  Hertzer 
entered,  she  had  murmured  in  Spanish: 

"  I  am  still  here  to  fight  for  thee." 

Though  she  had  smiled — just  then — at  the  ab 
surdity  of  it,  Consuela  had  warmed  to  the  little  creat 
ure  ;  for  matter  of  that  she  had  taken  comfort  out  of 
her  presence  all  day,  far  more  than  she  had  out  of 
Patricia's  high  promises.  Smiling,  she  had  resumed 
her  own  thoughtful  brooding. 

Her  reflections  ?  Their  key  is  to  be  found  in  Hert 
zer 's  sneer  to  Ewing,  and  they  took  naturally  out  her 
thoughts  of  David.  "  Was  it  for  thee,  a  girl  of  such 
shameful  upbringings,  to  marry  with  an  honorable 
man?"  she  asked  herself.  "If  thou  hadst  not  seen 
the  misery  of  the  galeras,  the  intent  might  have  been 
judged  innocent.  But,  having  seen,  what  word 
can  be  said  for  thee  ?  Surely  this  is  the  punishment. 
And  yet — "  would  come  flooding  a  host  of  recol 
lections,  some  arch,  some  merry,  most  tender,  and 
all  in  justification  of  her  weakness.  But  while  she 
gave  them  soft  indulgence,  the  text  of  that  remem 
bered  sermon  on  "The  Sins  of  the  Fathers  "  uprose 
again  and  again  to  banish  the  smiles  which  leavened 
her  distress.  But,  chiefest  of  all,  the  thought  which 
gave  her  most  comfort,  lay  back  of  her  quiet  com 
posure  under  Hertzer's  hard  gaze — if  she  were  now 
to  suffer  for  her  tender  fault,  at  least  she  had  been 
permitted  to  help  in  averting  disaster  from  David 
and  his  people! 

Her  composure  did  not,  however,  obtain  long,  for 
494 


THE   SINS   OF   THE    FATHERS 

in  the  man  before  her  she  could  see  no  moiety  of  either 
the  Hertzer  of  their  rides  and  talks  or  the  sardonic 
planter  of  a  year  ago.  Even  the  Hertzer  of  the  night 
before — he  of  the  gray  face,  sharp,  cold  glances — was 
absorbed  by  a  savage  whose  every  attribute  reeked 
a  coarse  masculinity.  Tucked  in  at  the  neck,  his 
camisa  revealed  his  breast's  thick  hair  beneath  the 
short  neck.  From  rolled-up  sleeves  his  arms  pro 
truded,  equally  hairy,  knotted  with  muscle,  streaked 
with  swollen  veins.  The  passion  which  swelled  every 
great  muscle  had  pulled  him  from  his  height  to  a 
slight  crouch  that  accentuated  his  appearance  of 
squatness.  With  every  trace  of  his  usual  grim  humor 
gone,  burned  out  along  with  his  curious  aesthetic 
streak  by  deadly  hate,  he  embodied  grossness,  loomed 
ferociously  animal  in  her  startled  vision.  Even  the 
rose  dusk  could  not  hide  her  sudden  blanching. 

He  saw  it,  the  sudden  fear,  with  a  thrill  of  fierce 
satisfaction,  first  fruit  of  his  revenge;  to  get  his  fill 
of  it,  wring  the  last  drop  out  of  the  moment,  he  con 
tinued  to  look  at  her,  unconscious  of  the  black  eyes 
which  were  returning  his  stare  from  under  the  table, 
feasted  on  her  pallors  till  his  smoking  passion  de 
manded  further  fuel. 

"Well?" 

The  hot  arrogance  of  the  monosyllable  touched  her 
pride.  She  quickly  answered:  "It  is  for  me  to  ask 
that,  senor ?  Why  do  you  hold  me  here  a  prisoner?" 

His  hand  went  to  the  pocket  in  which  David's 
letter  had  lain  since  he  crumpled  it  out  of  Phelps's 

495 


THE    PLANTER 

sight.  But  it  pleased  him  to  play  with  her,  fan  his 
passion  with  breath  of  words.  "Are  you  the  first 
Mexican  woman  to  suffer  that  in  the  tropics?  La 
Senora  Morales  could  tell  you  different." 

But  there  his  play  ended;  for,  reading  a  judgment 
into  his  words,  she  remained  mutely  silent. 

"  You  do  not  answer?"  The  suppression  constrict 
ed  his  vocal  chords  so  that  he  spoke  in  a  gusty  whine. 
"Must  have  rhyme  and  reason  for  it,  must  you? 
Well— there  it  is." 

"Then  Patricia  did — "  Astounded  by  this  sudden 
revelation  of  the  girl's  treachery,  she  stared  at  the 
letter  he  threw  on  the  table. 

In  the  tense  moment  that  followed  she  obtained 
flashing  insight  into  his  psychology;  saw  and  under 
stood  all  that  had  passed  in  the  last  two  days;  and,  as 
he  was  already  informed  on  hers  further  speech  was 
unnecessary — events  moved  quickly  on  to  a  dramatic 
conclusion.  As  the  familiar  writing  raised  a  vision 
of  David's  face,  all  aglow  in  its  honest  strength,  she 
put  out  her  hand  to  the  letter,  then  tore  herself  with 
a  mad  wrench  out  of  Hertzer's  quick  clutch,  leaving 
her  sleeve  in  his  hands.  Ripped  away  from  throat 
to  girdle,  the  flimsy  mull  of  her  waist  fell  down  ex 
posing  her  shoulder's  soft  pink  to  the  lamp's  rich 
light,  and  as  she  recoiled,  gazing  at  him  in  dark 
horror,  she  made  shift  with  the  other  hand  to  draw 
the  shreds  together. 

"You  would,  would  you?" 

Girning  between  set  teeth,  he  followed  around  the 
496 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHERS 

end  of  the  table,  unmindful  of,  if  he  even  saw,  the 
little  maid.  Throughout  she  had  watched  him  with 
catlike  stealth,  sliding  forward  upon  her  knees  as  he 
made  that  sudden  clutch.  Now  her  hand  stole  out 
to  the  knife  he  had  lent  Consuela  to  sharpen  pencils, 
which  still  lay  open  upon  the  table,  and  as  he  paused, 
teetering  between  the  impulses  which  urged  him  at 
once  to  go  forward  and  stay  to  feed  his  passion  fatter, 
the  small  thing  rose  and  struck  with  all  her  might. 

Lucky  for  him  that  it  was  not  a  case-knife.  De 
livered  with  knowledge  of  knives  and  anatomy  gained 
in  the  skinning  of  many  a  beast  on  the  Sonora  plateau, 
having  behind  it  the  heft  of  her  sinewy  young  body, 
it  would  have  split  through  to  his  heart. 

Lucky  for  her  the  smallness  that  saved  her  by  con 
trast  of  her  insignificance  with  the  enormity  of  his 
anger.  Swinging  round  with  a  roar,  he  gazed  a  pause 
in  ludicrous  surprise;  then,  picking  her  up  by  one  arm 
as  a  child  does  a  doll,  he  carried  her  to  the  door  and 
tossed  her  outside. 

"  To  the  galera,  you  little  devil,  and  tell  the  veledor 
to  give  you  a  spanking  before  he  locks  you  in!" 

Forgetting  her  own  terror  in  her  fear  for  the  child, 
Consuela  had  run  forward.  As  she  now  ran  back 
again,  a  resumption  of  horror  in  her  wide  eyes,  he 
broke  out,  in  a  sneering  laugh:  "Don't  be  afraid. 
The  honor  is  not  for  you.  That  chance  is  gone  for 
ever."  In  black  enjoyment  of  the  puzzle  that  now 
mingled  with  her  fright,  he  waited  a  full  minute  before 
going  on:  "But  there!  don't  look  so  disappointed. 

497 


THE   PLANTER 

There  are  other  fish  in  the  sea.  If  I  had  not  waited 
in  the  hope  that  David  would  grace  the  ceremony 
with  his  sanctimonious  presence,  you  would  have 
been  mated  ere  this  with  one  of  my  cabos.  How 
ever,  he  will  be  able  to  view  your  completed  happiness 
to-morrow." 

Upon  a  strained  silence,  her  answer  issued  in  little 
gasps:  "You  would  not  .  .  .  dare.  There  would  be 
an  inquiry  .  .  .  even  here  ...  in  the  tropics." 

"  An  inquiry — by  the  Jefe  of  San  Juan,  who  would 
take  my  report  of  you  as  a  loose  woman  now  safe 
guarded  from  further  indiscretions  by  marriage." 

Ensued  another  silence.  Standing  over  her,  he 
watched,  with  black  triumph,  despair  wipe  incred 
ulous  horror  out  of  her  wide,  dark  eyes.  Over  some 
thousand  square  miles  of  jungle  country  the  Jefe  of 
San  Juan  exercised  corrupt  jurisdiction,  dealing  out 
verdicts  to  the  highest  bidder.  No  crime  but  had 
its  price  in  his  court ;  and  should  there  arise  a  stickler 
for  justice,  arrest  upon  misinformation  was  easy; 
more  than  one  such  had  been  thrust  from  the  door  of 
his  car  eel  and  shot  under  pretence  of  escape.  And 
Hertzer  was  hand  and  glove  with  the  man!  As  it 
all  ran  through  her  mind,  her  faith  rose  to  a  higher, 
if  more  primitive,  law. 

"David  would  kill  thee!"  she  whispered. 

He  shrugged,  laughing.  "Would  that  mend  thy 
case?  Though  I  have  no  skill  in  religious  matters, 
I  am  told  that  a  broken  reputation  is  beyond  the 
tinkering  of  even  a  priest." 

498 


THE   SINS    OF   THE   FATHERS 

There  was  little  hope  in  that  dry  laugh,  but  now 
she  was  desperate  enough  to  catch  at  any  straw,  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  able  to  laugh  encouraged  her  to 
attempt  pleading.  "  Sefior,  is  it  the  part  of  a  man  to 
frighten  a  woman?  I  had  not  thought  this  of  him 
who  spread  his  great  visions  before  me  the  other 
morning.  But  you  joke;  I  know  that  you  joke. 
This  is  still  that  man,  strong,  self-reliant,  not  to  be 
turned  from  a  high  purpose  by  one  mistake.  They 
are  still  there,  the  bright  future,  the  plans  which  you 
will  surely  carry  out.  I  am  still  to  be  permitted  to 
lend  sympathy  and — " 

"You  remind  me  of  that?"  Eyes  leaping,  snap 
ping  in  the  midst  of  a  dark  suffusion,  he  went  on,  in  the 
same  gusty  whine:  "  You,  who  laughed  in  your  sleeve 
at  my  sentimental  maunderings?  By  God!  I'll — " 
His  big  fist  came  smashing  down  on  the  table,  then, 
checked  by  the  pain  of  his  bruised  knuckles,  he  stood 
glowering  down  upon  her.  "Pshaw!  I'm  keeping 
you  from  your  lover." 

Two  strides  and  he  gripped  her  bare  arm  with  iron 
fingers  that  sunk  in  to  the  bone,  extorting  a  low  cry 
as  he  dragged  her  across  the  floor  to  the  door.  Fling 
ing  it  wide  open,  he  made  to  step  out,  then  recoiled 
and  stared  blankly  at  the  veledor,  who  stood,  blinking, 
in  the  sudden  lamplight. 

"You  sent  for  me,  senor?" 

"I— for  you—" 

"  Si,  senor.    The  little  maid,  she  said  that  you — " 

"What's  that?"  Hertzer  broke  in,  sharply.  A 
499 


THE   PLANTER 

twanging,  like  that  of  breaking  harp  -  strings,  but 
infinitely  louder,  resounded  among  the  dark  buildings ; 
and  as  his  mind  flashed  to  the  interpretation,  he  ques 
tioned,  sharply,  "Your  machete,  man — where  is  it?" 

"In  the  galera,  sefior.     When — " 

"And  she  has  thrust  it  through  the  screen!  They 
are  chopping  down  the  wires!" 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  vibrance  ceased.  The 
shadows  about  the  galera  seemed  to  thicken,  twitch 
with  a  convulsion  of  hidden  life,  and  as  he  thrust  by 
the  veledor,  they  vomited  a  stream  of  running  shapes 
into  the  vivid  moonlight. 

"Ola!     Timotea!     Pancho!     Angel!" 

With  a  sudden  remembrance  that  he  had  sent  most 
of  the  cabos  to  waylay  David,  he  stopped  running. 

"Si,  senor!"  The  sleepy  voice  in  the  cabos'  jacale 
rose  suddenly  in  a  hoarse  yell  of  fear,  but  he  had  no 
time  to  speculate  on  the  struggle  going  on  there  in 
the  dark,  for,  splitting  at  the  store,  half  of  the 
streaming  shapes  had  turned  on  to  the  garden  path. 
His  hands  went  to  his  belt  and  came  away  empty, 
while  a  furious  oath  marked  his  rememberance  that 
he  had  left  both  pistols  and  machete  in  the  store. 

"Jose*,  lend  me  your  pistol!" 

But,  turning,  he  saw  the  man  running  hard  for  the 
jungle,  and,  at  right  angles  to  his  direction,  caught 
the  flutter  of  white  that  marked  Consuela's  flight. 
For  the  moment  he  was  minded  to  follow.  But  with 
a  memory  of  Patricia,  locked  up  in  the  store,  there 
broke  loose  within  him  that  furious  parental  instinct 

500 


THE   SINS   OF    THE    FATHERS 

upon  which  Phelps  had  once  commented  to  David. 
Turning  again,  he  paused  for  a  breath,  eyes  flashing 
insanely,  face  distorted,  great  bulk  swelling  to  the 
impulse  that  launched  him  with  a  roar  of  rage  at  the 
van  of  streaming  shapes. 

Carried  back  or  tossed  aside  by  the  thrust  of 
his  rush,  the  leaders  closed  again,  for  the  stripes, 
insults,  intolerable  tyranny  of  his  hard  service  had 
excoriated  festering  memories  of  tribal  wrongs,  ren 
dered  them  desperate  as  he.  And  once  at  a  stand 
still,  they  poured  over  him  in  a  dark  wave  with  a 
low  moaning  roar  like  that  of  a  breaking  sea ;  hung  in 
twos,  threes,  as  many  as  could  obtain  a  hold  on  his 
every  limb;  piled  upon  him  in  a  heap  that  slithered 
to  and  fro,  writhed  in  the  moonlight  like  a  nest  of 
fighting  snakes.  Sometimes  a  sudden  convulsion  from 
the  centre  would  shift  its  base  a  yard.  Splitting, 
it  let  Hertzer's  face  heave  up  for  a  second  to  the 
moonlight,  desperately  grim  under  a  wet  veil  of 
sweat,  to  sink  once  more  in  the  mass;  for,  with 
death  at  his  heart,  he  fought  as  he  never  had  in  life — 
fought  with  teeth,  nails,  tearing  fingers,  butting  head; 
even  when  a  pain,  sharp  as  the  burn  of  a  red-hot  iron, 
shot  through  his  ankles  and  he  collapsed  beneath  the 
heap,  each  strong  limb  continued  to  fight  an  in 
dividual  battle.  But  that  was  close  to  the  end.  Held 
down  by  dead  weight  of  numbers,  he  felt  a  hair-cord 
bite  his  wrists  to  the  bone;  the  heap  dissolved,  and, 
sitting  up,  he  saw  the  Yaqui  cabo  looming  above  him 
against  a  red  glare. 


THE    PLANTER 

Through  the  blind  smother  of  the  fight  he  had 
been  conscious  of  light,  and  now  he  saw  that  the 
cabos'  jacak  was  on  fire.  Dried  to  a  crisp  in  this  the 
dry  season,  its  palm  roof  burned  like  a  huge  torch, 
lifted  a  twisting  spout  of  flame  high  above  the  peak 
painting  the  night  sky  with  the  effulgence  which  had 
just  given  David  pause  in  the  forest  ten  miles  away. 
Even  at  his  distance  Hertzer  could  feel  the  heat, 
and  when,  at  a  sign  from  the  Yaqui,  he  was  lifted  and 
carried  down  the  path,  he  thought  he  divined  his 
doom ;  his  flesh  shivered  and  crept  to  a  premonition  of 
licking  flames.  But,  after  setting  him  down  with  his 
back  against  the  last  tree  at  the  foot  of  the  path,  they 
dispersed,  some  running  to  help  their  fellows  re 
trieve  machetes,  rifles,  zarapes  from  the  burning 
building,  others  to  follow  their  leader  back  to  the 
house. 

Sensing  their  purpose,  Hertzer  turned  his  face  of 
despair  to  the  store.  Within  forty  feet  of  himself, 
and  separated  by  a  wider  interval  from  the  other 
buildings,  he  knew  that  Patricia  must  have  watched 
the  struggle,  and  after  a  stealthy  glance  around  he 
threw  a  strained  whisper  at  the  siding. 

"Si,  padre." 

Her  quick  answer  proved  his  intuition,  and  after  a 
second  glance  round  he  spoke  out  of  his  desperation. 
"  Daughter,  I  am  a  prisoner  and  cannot  help  you;  nor 
is  it  possible  for  you  to  escape.  Just  now  they  are 
busy  sacking  the  house  and  jacales,  but  it  is  only  a 
question  of  minutes  till  they  break  down  your  door. 

502 


THE   SINS   OF    THE   FATHERS 

Then — there  are  worse  things  than  death.  My  pis 
tols  lie  there  on  the  table — " 

Her  cowardice  leaped  to  his  meaning.  In  a  low 
wail  her  voice  issued  from  the  siding.  "Oh,  padre, 
I  cannot,  I  cannot!  To  kill  myself?  I  cannot!  Oh, 
why  didn't  you  listen  to  me?  This  would  never 
have  happened." 

As,  ignoring  his  "hush,"  she  continued  her  low 
wail,  mixing  scraps  of  prayer  with  reproaches  and 
demands  for  help,  the  cold  sweat  of  despair  stood  out 
on  Hertzer's  face — if  ever  man  felt  the  flame  of  hell, 
it  was  he  in  that  minute.  Looking  around  in  that 
extremity  of  desperation  which  hopes  only  for  hope, 
he  saw  the  pillar  of  flame  careen  under  a  breath  of- 
night  wind  toward  the  galera,  and  with  the  sudden 
ness  of  an  explosion,  the  great  palm-leaf  roof  touched 
off,  threw  sheet  flame  a  hundred  feet  in  the  air. 
Other  buildings  were  catching,  and,  though  such  wind 
as  there  was  blew  away  from  the  store,  he  saw  that 
it  also  must  soon  go. 

Under  urge  of  the  thought,  he  glanced  around, 
looking  for  Magdaleno,  whose  voice  he  had  heard 
during  the  fight — in  what  hope  needs  not  to  inquire, 
for  he  did  not  see  him  either  among  the  Yaquis  who 
were  running  among  the  burning  buildings  or  those 
now  coming  back  from  the  house.  Realizing  that  it 
must  be  his  last,  he  burdened  his  whisper  with  the 
strain  of  his  awful  despair. 

"Child,  they  will  presently  burn  me,  but  worse 
than  twenty  burnings  would  it  be  to  have  them  capt- 

503 


THE    PLANTER 

ure  you.  There  is  still  time  to  cheat  them —  Hush ! 
for  God's  sake,  hush!" 

But  either  she  did  not  see  the  Yaqui  cabo  coming 
down  the  path,  or,  seeing,  wished  to  end  the  agony, 
for  she  kept  on  crying,  "I  can't,  padre,  I  can't! 
can't!  can't!" — cried  it  even  when,  passing  Hertzer 
on  a  swift  run,  the  Yaqui  came  leaping  out  of  the 
shadowy  rubber  into  the  glare  of  the  conflagration. 

"  The  pistol !     Quick !     The  pistol !" 

"I  can't!  I  can't!"  She  cried  it  once  more,  an 
swering  his  mad  shout.  While  he  strained  at  his 
bonds,  came  a  crash;  the  piteous  note  changed  to 
quavering  fear;  then,  as  it  rose  to  a  scream,  Hertzer's 
head  plunged  forward  upon  his  breast,  a  groan 
bubbling  upon  his  lips. 

An  hour  later  Hertzer  sat  up  and  looked  around, 
the  screams  of  his  daughter  still  in  his  ears ;  a  vision 
of  her  hanging  across  one  of  his  horses  in  front  of  the 
Yaqui,  still  splendid  in  her  pallid  dishevelment, 
burned  into  his  eyes. 

In  his  rear  the  house  and  outbuildings  still  blazed; 
the  red  embers  of  the  store  scorched  his  blistered  face. 
Galera,  cook-house,  stables,  and  storehouses,  all  were 
gone,  and  among  their  glowing  ashes  loomed  dim, 
bulky  shapes,  the  bodies  of  his  slaughtered  cattle. 
Nor  did  his  calamity  give  pause  there.  Touched  off 
by  long  trails  of  sparks,  the  monte,  which  cumbered 
the  ground  a  foot  deep,  had  flamed  into  a  wave  of 
fire  that  flowed  across  the  plantation,  licking  every- 

504 


THE   SINS   OF   THE    FATHERS 

thing  clean  between  opposite  walls  of  green  jungle. 
Through  moonlit  reek  he  could  make  out  a  black 
bristle  of  trees,  a  ghostly  plantation  litten  here  and 
there  with  sickly  flames  that  leaped  and  flickered 
about  dry  stumps,  pallid  corpse  lights  in  a  pall  of 
smoke.  La  Luna  was  gone,  purged  at  last  of  the  blood 
and  sweat,  immemorial  suffering  that  had  fertilized 
its  green  glories  by  the  flame  that  burned  it  down  to 
the  stones.  And  as  he  overlooked  it  all,  noted  with 
dull  eyes  the  completeness  of  his  calamity,  he  realized 
not  only  why  his  life  had  been  left  him,  but  also  the 
thorough  manner  in  which  fate  had  turned  the  tables 
he  had  spread  for  David.  Yet  neither  thought 
brought  recurrence  of  his  passion.  Thinking  them,  he 
fell  into  dull  brooding,  his  eyes  on  his  feet,  which  were 
soaked  from  the  ankles  down  with  blood;  nor  looked 
up  again  till  a  sudden  splash  rose  out  of  the  river's 
murmur. 

A  fish,  he  thought  at  first,  but  presently  heard 
labored  breathing,  thud  of  shod  feet  ascending  the 
bank,  then,  as  a  figure  moved  forward  into  the  glare 
of  the  fires,  he  broke  out  in  sudden  laughter,  harsh 
and  mirthless — surely  it  had  required  only  this  to 
make  the  situation  ridiculously  complete.  Pale  from 
hard  riding,  and  all  dripping  from  his  swim  through 
the  river,  David  stood  looking  down  upon  him. 

"Hello!    back  again?"      Absurd  as  it  was  under 

the  circumstances,  Hertzer  heard  himself  give  casual 

greeting  without  astonishment,  for,  apart  from  that 

sudden  risibility,  his  mind  was  dead   to  all  values — 

33  505 


THE    PLANTER 

David  or  Timoteo,  it  was  all  one.  "  Didn't  you  meet 
them?"  he  went  on,  in  the  same  casual  way;  nor 
noticed  that  David  answered,  though  he  had  not 
named  his  cabos. 

"Yes,  on  a  run  for  the  Zacateco  village." 

"I'll  bet  you.     You  are  wet — and  on  foot?" 

"  Broke  the  heart  of  my  horse  two  miles  back.  I 
swam  the  river." 

Ensued  a  pause.  While  Hertzer  resumed  his  dull 
brooding,  David  swept  the  desolation  of  fire  and 
ashes,  moonlit  reek,  with  dark  eyes  of  trouble.  In 
him,  also,  the  exhaustion  of  his  hard  ride  had  com 
bined  with  the  drain  of  emotion  to  induce  a  sort  of 
coma.  When  he  spoke  again  it  was  like  a  man  in  a 
dream. 

"Where  is  Consuela?" 

As  he  glanced  up  quickly,  and  took  note  for  the 
first  time  of  the  other's  pallid  face,  anxious  pre 
occupation,  a  sinister  gleam  indicated  a  stir  of  passion 
under  Hertzer's  unnatural  calm.  In  the  following 
pause  his  every  crooked  power  rallied  to  snatch  some 
shred  of  revenge  from  calamity's  grasp. 

"Humph!"  he  sneered.  "If  you  had  happened 
along  a  few  hours  earlier  you  might  have  witnessed 
her  marriage  to  one  of  my  cabos.  In  fact,  I  sent  out 
Timoteo  and  Angel  to  deliver  an  invitation.  As  for 
her  whereabouts— as  they  were  naturally  wakeful,  they 
escaped  to  finish  their  honeymoon  out  in  the  jungle." 

"You  lie!  Your  veledor  swam  the  river  and  told 
me  all.  Get  up!"  Speaking,  he  cut  the  cords  that 

506 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHERS 

bound  Hertzer's  wrists  with  the  saddle  machete  he 
had  carried,  swimming,  in  his  mouth.  "  Get  up,  or 
I'll  strike  you  sitting!" 

But  Hertzer  did  not  move,  and  as  he  looked  up  his 
eyes  reflected  the  glare,  glowed  with  a  red  malevo 
lence.  "  You  strike  me  ?  A  clever  bluff. "  His  glance 
drooped  again  to  the  blood-soaked  fringe  of  trousers. 
"  You  saw  that  I  was  hamstrung  before  you  said  it." 

Hamstrung!  Crippled  for  life!  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  David  had  noticed  the  stain,  and  as  its  signifi 
cance  now  burst  upon  him,  and  he  realized  what  it 
meant  to  this  man  whose  whole  life  had  been  one 
fury  of  action,  pity  cooled  his  anger. 

"I  didn't,  Hertzer — and  I'm  sorry.  If  there's 
anything  I  can  do — " 

"Of  course  not!"  the  other  jeeringly  interrupted. 
"  As  for  your  help — the  only  thing  you  can  do  for  me 
is  to  get  out  of  my  sight."  Looking  away,  he  added: 
"  It  isn't  likely  that  the  Yaquis  will  come  back,  but 
the  fire  may  bring  out  some  volunteer  Zacatecores. 
They  don't  love  me  so  well  that  I'd  like  to  have  them 
catch  me  unarmed,  so,  if  you  like,  you  can  leave  me  a 
pistol." 

Though  he  spoke  carelessly,  mentioning  the  pistol 
as  an  afterthought,  he  could  not  restrain  an  eager 
shiver;  "To  shoot  me?"  David  quietly  interpreted. 
"No.  After  you  have  answered  my  question  I  am 
going  on  to  Phelps's  place,  and  I'll  send  back  help 
from  there.  When  did  you  see  Consuela  last?" 

But  Hertzer's  casual  glance  away  had  shown  a 
507 


THE    PLANTER 

sudden  effulgence  far  down  the  sky.  Pointing,  he  ex 
claimed,  "  Look  there!" 

Even  as  David  looked,  the  tops  of  the  nearer  trees 
stood  blackly  out  as  against  a  blood-red  sunset,  and 
while  the  effulgence  quickened  with  pulsing  blushes, 
they  caught  the  roar  of  flames,  faint  in  the  distance, 
yet  sufficiently  loud  to  drown  the  approach  of  a 
sandalled  foot. 

"It's  Phelps's  place!" 

Hertzer  looked  up  with  the  old  evil  grin.  "  What's 
that  old  text  about  the  rain  falling  on  the  just  and 
the  unjust?  Seems  to  hold  true  of  fire.  Verda 
next,  and  with  it  all  of  our  pretty  plans  go  up  in  smoke. 
You  really  want  to  know  where  Consuela  is?  She 
is — "  As  he  raised  his  hand,  pointing  at  the  sky- 
glare,  a  voice  broke  in  from  behind: 

"Here!"  And,  swinging  round,  David  found  him 
self  facing  Magdaleno. 

Besides  its  original  bruises,  the  old  fellow's  grim 
face  now  bore  innumerable  scratches  gained  as  he 
dashed  after  Consuela  into  the  jungle,  yet  was  in  its 
blood  and  dirt  the  most  welcome  but  one  in  David's 
sight.  And  that  was  not  long  withheld  from  his 
glad  eyes ;  for,  as  he  thrust  out  his  hand,  there  came 
an  echo  of  his  joyful  exclamation,  and  from  behind 
a  bush  close  by,  Consuela  came  with  a  rush  to  his  arms. 

"Oh,  it  is  thee!  I  knew  it,  but  Magdaleno  would 
have  me  wait." 

Hertzer  roused  from  a  second  dull  doze  of  despair 
508 


THE   SINS   OF   THE    FATHERS 

to  silence  and  ashes,  mutter  of  falling  embers,  whisper 
of  little  winds.  Westward  the  moon's  spectral  face 
loomed  through  a  pall  of  smoke;  eastward  a  fainter 
sky-blush  attested  fading  fires.  In  the  foreground 
the  skeletons  of  his  trees  bristled  blackly  on  every 
ridge;  beyond  them  the  dark  line  of  jungle  —  the 
jungle,  triumphant,  insistent,  whose  ebb  and  flow 
had  marked  the  rise  and  fall  of  Aztec  and  Toltec 
civilizations  upon  whose  ruins  its  green  life  battened ; 
the  jungle,  beside  whose  eternal  recurrences  the  span 
of  La  Luna  was  as  the  amethyst  flash  of  a  fly  out 
there  in  the  murk;  the  jungle,  which  would  presently 
flow  in  and  wipe  its  very  memory  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  But  while  Consuela's  glad  cry  rang  in  his  ears 
in  bitter  alternation  with  his  daughter's  hysterical 
scream,  no  thought  of  mutability  could  arise  to  cheer 
him  with  suggestion  of  surcease  from  pain. 

Standing  there,  so  close  that  he  glimpsed  white 
flesh  through  the  cloud  of  brown  hair  she  had  loosed 
to  veil  her  shoulder,  she  had  given  herself  up  with 
the  abandonment  of  perfect  love  to  David's  kisses; 
and,  screw  up  his  eyes  as  he  might,  Hertzer  could 
not  shut  out  the  glory  of  tenderness  which  flooded 
her  face  as,  nestling  against  his  shoulder,  she  told 
of  her  flight  into  the  jungle  before  Magdaleno  found 
her.  It  was  not  to  be  shut  out  any  more  than 
David's  happy  glow  or  the  fatherly  indulgence  of  the 
mandador's  grim  visage;  yet  was  perhaps  less  hard 
to  bear  than  their  consideration  for  himself,  anxious 
inquiry  after  Patricia. 

5°9 


THE    PLANTER 

Thinking  in  his  venomous  madness  to  withhold  this, 
the  essence  of  his  calamity,  from  their  pity,  he  had 
replied  that  Patricia  escaped  with  Tomas  down-river 
in  a  canoe,  and  in  his  solitude  had  now  leisure  to  rave 
over  the  lie  that  cut  off  immediate  chance  of  rescue. 
And  rave  he  did,  turning  a  strained  white  face  up  to 
the  night  sky  which  mocked  his  passion  with  the  un 
troubled  peace  of  its  great  dark  vault;  raved  first  in 
hoarse  whispers  at  the  unnameable  horrors  that 
passed  in  vivid  procession  through  his  mind;  then 
voicelessly — raved  until,  from  sheer  exhaustion,  his 
head  plunged  forward,  and  he  rolled  over  and  lay  in 
a  stupor,  half  swoon,  half  sleep. 

It  was  daybreak  when  he  awoke  again  in  the  midst 
of  a  desolation  of  cold  ashes.  Under  a  cold  dawn 
the  rubber  stood  out,  harsh  and  black,  a  dirty  beard 
on  the  burned  face  of  the  plantation;  stale,  acrid 
odors  burdened  the  heavy  air. 

In  the  gray  light  of  early  morning  facts  always 
slough  off  false  glamours,  stand  out  in  their  naked 
truth,  and,  looking  across  the  gulf  of  sleep,  he  now 
obtained  a  perspective  upon  his  calamity,  saw  and 
reviewed  with  a  fresh  mind  its  every  consequence. 
Departing,  David  had  called  back  that  he  would  re 
turn  with  a  canoe,  and  as  he  now  pictured  him 
self  at  Verda,  a  cripple  subject  to  the  pity  of 
even  the  enganchadores,  Hertzer  broke  out  in  a 
harsh  laugh.  Perhaps,  more  than  anything  else, 
the  thought  influenced  him  to  the  decision  he  at 
tained  long  before  a  moving  dot  on  the  unburned 


THE   SINS   OF   THE    FATHERS 

strip  of  plantation  road  resolved  into  the  figure  of 
Phelps. 

As  he  drew  nearer  a  faint  grin  first  disturbed  the 
dark  seriousness  of  Hertzer's  face,  for  it  was  hard 
to  recognize,  in  his  wildly  dishevelled  figure,  the  pre 
cise  Englishman,  disciple  of  Spencer,  Darwin,  Kidd. 
Prom  much  rubbing,  his  face  was  one  smudge  through 
which  canals  of  white  meandered  from  his  red  and 
swollen  eyes.  In  ludicrous  contrast  to  the  flannel 
pajamas  in  which  he  had  escaped  into  the  night,  he 
carried  a  pistol  in  each  hand,  one  of  which  he  kept 
tucking  under  his  arm  while  he  wiped  his  eyes. 
Sooty,  sweaty,  tear-stained,  it  required  only  his  air 
of  injury,  bewildered  protest,  to  complete  the  picture 
that  revived  in  Hertzer  a  brief  recurrence  of  the  old 
sardonic  spirit. 

"My  God,  Hertzer!  Is  that  you?"  he  cried,  run 
ning  forward.  "  Isn't  this  terrible,  terrible  ?"  Then 
he  stopped,  staring  at  Hertzer's  sudden  boisterous 
laughter. 

"What  would  Ben  Kidd  have  to  say  about  this?" 
Leaning  back  against  his  tree,  he  roared  it  between 
boisterous  peals.  "  *  Only  those  types  survive  that 
prove  their  fitness  in  the  struggle  for  existence.' 
Isn't  that  it,  Phelps?  How  do  you  like  it  yourself?" 
Then,  with  equal  suddenness,  he  resumed  his  dark 
quiet,  nor  even  grinned  at  Phelps's  pathetic  protest. 

"Hertzer,  Hertzer,  don't  talk  that  way!  It's  too 
serious.  My  throat  might  have  been  cut  in  my  bed 
— would  have,  if  the  veledor  hadn't  rung  the  galera 


THE    PLANTER 

bell."  Shuddering  at  the  thought  of  it,  he  ran  on 
without  waiting  for  questions:  "As  it  was,  they 
nearly  got  me.  Thinking  that  some  scrap  had  arisen 
in  the  galera  over  a  woman,  I  grabbed  my  pistols 
and  ran  out,  and  I  had  just  time  to  make  the  banana- 
patch  before  they  surrounded  the  house,  with  Lola — 
and  the  kiddies — still  there  in  bed."  Pausing,  he 
swallowed  painfully,  trying  to  conquer  the  lump  that 
was  threatening  his  English  reserve,  but  failed,  and, 
while  the  tears  washed  new  channels  through  the 
smudge,  he  continued,  wildly,  "My  God,  Hertzer, 
I'd  always  taken  them  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
when  I  think  of  them  now — Felice,  with  her  little 
curly  head;  Lola,  so  quiet  and  thoughtful;  and  the 
boy  was  such  a  manly  little  chap — I — "  He  stopped, 
and  while  he  choked  and  blubbered,  Hertzer  observed 
him  with  eyes  that  pierced  down  through  his  shallow 
grief  to  the  wounded  selfishness  beneath. 

"They  killed  them?" 

Harsh,  matter  of  fact,  the  question  checked  Phelps's 
emotion.  He  looked  up  in  injured  surprise.  "No, 
carried  them  off — after  they'd  gutted  the  place  and 
turned  loose  my  enganchars.  I  saw  them  go  from 
where  I  lay  in  the  skirts  of  the  jungle — " 

"And  you  with  a  Colt  in  either  hand?" 

Phelps  stared.  "Why,  you  wouldn't  expect  one 
man  to — " 

"No,  I  wouldn't  expect  it — of  you.  Did  you  see 
Patricia?" 

Passing  over,  if  he  noticed  the  scorn  of  the  first 
512 


THE   SINS    OF    THE    FATHERS 

sentence,  Phelps  burst  out.  "Then  it  was  she?  I 
couldn't  trust  my  eyes.  She,  also?  My  God, 
Hertzer,  what  shall  we  do?" 

"  Which  way  were  they  heading  when  you  saw  them 
last?"  And  when  Phelps  replied  that  they  had 
taken  a  path  that  led  south  to  the  next  river,  he 
darkly  commented,  "  Where  they'll  seize  canoes,  and 
once  on  the  water  they  leave  no  trace." 

Rousing  from  a  fit  of  black  musing,  during  which 
Phelps  had  looked  helplessly  down  upon  him,  he 
began,  "Did  you  see — "  but  stopped  as  he  re 
membered  that  if  Phelps  had  seen  David  he  would 
not  now  be  here.  What  was  more  to,  or,  rather, 
against  his  purpose,  if  he  found  out  that  David  was 
at  Verda,  nothing  would  stop  him  from  heading  back 
that  way. 

"  What  shall  we  do?"  He  repeated  Phelps's  ques 
tion.  "  First  you'll  go  down-river  to  warn  Boulton 
and  Carruthers.  Though  their  wives  and  children  have 
not  been  carried  off" —  the  pause  was  worse  than  a 
sneer — "  they  will  know  what  to  do.  Later  you  will 
take  the  first  ship  back  home.  Yes,  you  will."  He 
savagely  overrode  Phelps's  protest.  "It  hurts  just 
now,  of  course.  Even  a  cow  requires  a  week  to  forget 
her  calf.  You  will  go  back  to  school-mastering  in 
England,  marry  and  settle  down,  to  birch  other  folks' 
children  while  you  raise  a  smug  brood  of  your  own. 
You'll  grow  fat,  bald,  and  respectable,  and,  if  ever  you 
remember  your  Indian  wife,  it  will  be  with  a  shudder 
of  thankfulness  for  the  accident  that  rid  you  of  her 


THE    PLANTER 

and  your  brown  children.  As  for  me  ...  all  I  need 
is  the  loan  of  a  pistol  ?" 

As  he  extended  his  hand,  Phelps,  who  had  opened 
his  mouth  to  a  second  weak  protest,  recoiled  and 
stood,  open-mouthed,  staring,  chilled  by  a  premoni 
tion.  "No,  Hertzer,  no;  not — that!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  man?"  With  a 
wonderful  effort  he  veiled  his  face  in  surprise.  "  It 
will  be  hours  before  Carruthers  can  get  up  here  with  a 
canoe,  and  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you'll  leave  me 
here,  hamstrung  and  unarmed,  while  fifty  of  your 
enganchars  are  floating  round  in  the  jungle?" 

The  first  mention  of  his  hurt.  Phelps  exclaimed  his 
horror.  ' '  Hamstrung  /' ' 

"  Hamstrung,  I  said.  Did  you  think  I  was  sitting 
here  for  fun — taking  a  siesta?  Give  me  that  gun?" 

Reassured,  Phelps  handed  him  the  weapon,  or, 
rather,  yielded  it  to  his  quick  clutch,  then  shrank  in 
sudden  fear  before  the  fierce  joy  that  leaped  in  the 
other's  eyes.  His  nerve  completely  gone,  he  stood 
for  a  space  as  before,  blanched,  open-mouthed,  star 
ing,  then  turned  and  ran,  squealing  his  fear. 

Until  he  disappeared  in  the  jungle,  Hertzer  watched 
him  with  contemptous  amusement  which,  fading, 
left  his  face  grimly  calm.  Returning,  his  glance 
circled  the  burned  plantation  from  west  to  east,  and 
there  paused,  arrested  by  a  crimson  crescent,  burnish 
ed  tip  of  the  rising  sun.  Overhead  the  mists  of  night 
trailed  out  in  long,  diaphanous  veils  of  scarlet.  From 
below  rose  the  murmur  of  the  river,  spaced  by  the 

5M 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHERS 

splash  of  leaping  fish;  across  from  the  other  shore 
floated  chirrups  and  chirpings,  the  overture  of  sunrise 
song.  Until  the  great  red  orb  heaved  clear  of  the 
forest  horizon,  he  watched  with  sombre  eyes  in 
which  was  no  reflection  of  the  peace  of  that  fair 
morning;  then,  as  at  a  signal,  he  raised  the  pistol. 

Hearing  the  report  far  off  in  the  jungle,   Phelps 
hastened  his  breathless  run. 


XXIX 

THE    REALIZATION    OF    A    DREAM 

AT  the  close  of  day  some  five  weeks  later,  David 
stood  looking  out  on  the  camp  from  his  veranda 
at  Verda — not  that  of  the  old  jacale,  which  was  mere 
ly  an  extension  of  the  eaves  supported  on  posts,  but 
a  really  truly  veranda,  wire  -  screened  against  r ode- 
dor  es  or  other  ferocious  pests,  floored  with  fair  boards 
painfully  whip-sawed  out  of  the  log,  a  fit  appurte 
nance  of  the  new  plantation  house,  it  encircled. 

A  low  bungalow  wide  and  roomy,  this  was  in 
construction  a  compromise  between  Northern  ideals 
and  tropical  necessities;  for  while  the  floors,  siding, 
and  partitions  were  all  of  lumber,  the  cunning  of  the 
Zacateco  had  supplied  the  palm-leaf  roof.  From  the 
veranda  edge  its  sere  surfaces  swept  up  to  the  custom 
ary  peak,  and  David  had  omitted  the  usual  ceiling 
of  cotton  which  would  have  hidden  the  graceful  inner 
curve.  Crossing  at  an  even  height  with  the  walls, 
the  partitions  allowed  the  evening  breeze  free  play 
in  the  brown  gloom  of  rafters  and  ribs  above  before 
it  slid  out  through  an  open  window  freighted  with 
perfume  of  cedar  chests  and  cupboards.  The  native 


THE   REALIZATION    OF   A   DREAM 

carpenter  who  built  these  had  also  wrought  from 
seasoned  mahogany — flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  last 
rains — chairs,  lounges,  tables,  whose  massive  beauty 
was  unspoiled  by  taint  of  veneer.  Only  half  an  hour 
ago  David  had  given  them  a  last  touch  with  oil  and 
soft  cloth  as  he  moved  them  to  their  places.  Now 
the  house  stood  ready  for  its  mistress,  clean,  whole 
some,  airy  as  the  nests  of  the  forest. 

And  it  did  not  sum  the  month's  improvements. 
As  the  report  of  his  service  had  long  ago  travelled 
from  plantation  to  plantation,  penetrating  even  the 
hopeless  darkness  of  the  galeras,  there  is  nothing  sur 
prising  in  the  fact  that,  the  morning  after  the  fire, 
all  Phelps'  people — both  free  folk  and  enganchadores 
— descended  upon  him  in  a  body  demanding  employ 
ment.  To  house,  feed,  allot  land,  and  task  work  for 
them  would  have  been  a  sufficient  labor  without  the 
dozen  extra  families  which  Ewing  had  transferred  from 
the  Las  Glorias  galera  two  weeks  later,  but  this  even 
ing  saw  all  done.  Under  his  thoughtful  eyes  lay  the 
camp  of  Hertzer's  visionings — in  fact  as  well  as  fig- 
urately,  for  even  death  had  not  stayed  the  ironical 
reversions  of  fate ;  in  lieu  of  unpaid  wages,  the  Zacate- 
cores  had  razed  the  new  camp  to  furnish  material  for 
David's  houses.  Just  as  Hertzer  had  dreamed,  up 
rose  serried  rows  of  jacaks  with  brown  people  coming 
and  going  between;  only  instead  of  the  harsh  com 
mands  of  cabo  and  mandador,  the  evening  air  pulsed 
to  snatches  of  song,  shrill  treble  of  children,  musical 
laughter  of  women.  As  on  the  clay  that  David  re- 


THE   PLANTER 

ceived  his  dismissal,  it  basked,  this  palm  city  of  his 
building,  in  fluid  golds  that  flowed  out  in  quivering 
waves  to  stain  the  dark,  environing  rubber  with  sun 
set  hues.  Small  wonder  if  its  peace  and  beauty  caused 
him  a  thrill  of  pride ;  or  that  he  stood  looking  at  it 
all  till  the  skyglows  faded  and  Ewing's  voice  roused 
him  from  pleasant  musings. 

"Hello,  young  man!  Come  out  of  your  dreams. 
.  .  .  Didn't  expect  to  be  here  myself,"  he  went  on, 
answering  David's  greeting.  "But,  you  see,  these 
days  the  voice  of  the  sewing-machine  is  heard  in 
the  land,  every  blessed  table  at  Las  Glorias  is  piled 
high  with  filmy  things — they  haven't  left  me  even 
my  writing-desk — and  do  I  but  poke  my  nose  any 
where  near  the  mysteries,  Nell  ruffles  like  an  irate 
hen  and  shoos  me  promptly  away.  Positively,  I  was 
driven  out."  Laughing,  he  continued:  "  I  really  can 
not  conceive  why  a  girl  should  think  it  necessary  to 
rig  herself  out  anew  from  top  to  toe  simply  because 
she's  going  to  be  married.  Men  don't.  You,  for 
instance,  have  not  increased  your  wardrobe  by  so 
much  as  a  pair  of  suspenders.  But  they  all  do,  and 
I  can  assure  you  that  the  present  rumpus  isn't  a  cir 
cumstance  to  the  convulsions  which  preceded  my 
marriage.  Must  be  instinct,  however,  for  I  notice 
that  even  the  Tehuanas  deem  it  necessary  to  put  on 
a  little  extra  side,  and  if  the  facts  of  the  first  mar 
riage  were  accessible,  I'd  be  willing  to  lay  odds 
that  Eve  not  only  trimmed  her  leaves  with  flowers, 
but  also  stuck  a  rose  in  her  hair.  But  don't  be 


THE   REALIZATION    OF   A   DREAM 

alarmed,"  he  finished,  grinning.  "I  am  to  assure 
you  that  all  will  be  done  in  good  time — also  that 
you  never  saw  such  needlework!  Nell  boxed  my 
ears  for  suggesting  that  I  didn't  believe  you  had, 
another  grievance.  But  how  about  your  end? 
When  did  you  get  back  from  San  Juan?" 

"Late  this  morning.  I  had  all  kinds  of  trouble." 
Its  very  remembrance  spread  David's  face  with  a 
rueful  grin.  "No  sooner  did  I  mention  marriage 
license,  than  official  San  Juan  rose  in  a  body  with  its 
hand  stuck  out  behind  its  back.  The  Jefe,  the  Jefe's 
clerk,  and  the  rurale  who  guards  the  court,  the 
Registrar,  his  Deputy,  and  the  moso  who  runs  their 
errands,  their  faces  clouded  with  doubt  as  to  whether 
it  were  even  legal  for  an  alien — Gringo  in  particular — 
to  wed  a  daughter  of  the  soil,  nor  cleared  till  every 
last  man  had  got  his  bit.  And  where  the  law  stopped 
the  church  began — not  quite  so  unblushingly,  of 
course,  still  the  poor  of  San  Juan  ought  to  live  out 
the  year  very  comfortably  on  my  contribution  to 
the  box.  Altogether,  it  cost  me  two  days'  hard  talk 
ing  and  three  months'  salary  to  get  what  I  could 
have  for  three  dollars  in  two  minutes  at  home. 
However,  the  graft  had  its  advantages.  You  could 
have  knocked  the  priest's  eyes  off  with  sticks  when 
I  showed  him  the  license;  assured  me  that  it  would 
have  required  at  least  three  weeks  to  procure  it  by 
the  usual  method.  What  are  you  grinning  at?" 

"Only  at  the  idea  of  our  Davy  bribing  his  way 
through  thick  and  thin.  And  the  house?  Done? 


THE    PLANTER 

That's  fine.  Well,  lock  up  and  come  over  to  the  old 
jacale.  I  brought  my  own  cigars,  and  if  you  have 
a  drop  of  that  old  Scotch  left,  we  can  celebrate  your 
fall  from  freedom  and  be  very  comfy  over  a  glass  of 
toddy.  By- the- way,  I  brought  over  the  last  El  Im 
partial.  ' ' 

"More  about  the  Yaquis?"  David  inquired,  as  he 
led  the  way. 

"  Yes,  telegraphic  despatch  from  Honduras.  Ex 
terminated  once  more  —  makes  the  fourth  time, 
doesn't  it  ?" 

"Honduras?" 

Ewing  nodded.  "Travelling,  aren't  they?  Makes 
three  hundred  miles  easting  along  the  Isthmus  since 
we  lost  their  trail  at  the  Chiapas  line." 

He  alluded  to  the  pursuit  which  he,  David,  and 
other  half-dozen  planters  had  made  after  the  Yaquis 
— hopeless  from  the  beginning  through  Hertzer's  lie. 
For  Boulton  and  Carruthers  had  both  answered 
E wing's  call  to  assemble  at  Verda  on  Consuela's  be 
half,  and  when — after  Hertzer  had  been  found  and 
laid  with  his  dead  slaves  out  in  the  jungle — they  re 
turned  home  to  receive  news  of  Patricia's  abduction 
from  Phelps,  two  days  had  gone  by.  A  third  was 
used  organizing  the  pursuit,  and  though  burned 
plantations  blazed  the  trail  southeast  through  Oaxaca 
and  Chiapas,  it  went  blind  at  every  river,  faded  alto 
gether  in  the  deep  jungles  of  Guatemala.  Excepting 
Carruthers  and  Boulton — who  had  waited  till  the 
report  of  another  burning  should  furnish  a  fresh  clew 

520 


THE    REALIZATION    OF    A    DREAM 

— they  had  returned  to  glimpse  further  of  that  wild 
journeying  in  the  telegraphic  reports  of  El  Impartial 
and  other  Mexican  papers.  Now  a  Guatemalian 
coffee  finca  had  been  fed  to  the  flames.  Again,  the 
Yaquis  were  reported  wiped  out  by  the  massed  forces 
of  a  dozen  haciendas;  and,  while  they  were  reading, 
far  to  the  southeast  the  night  skies  would  be  blush 
ing  for  the  lie. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  David  now  commented  on  the 
article.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  Patricia,  my  sympathies 
would  be  entirely  with  them.  Wonder  what's  be 
come  of  Carrie  and  Boulton?  Looks  as  if  they  had 
picked  up  the  trail  again?" 

"  Must  have,  or  they  would  have  been  back  be 
fore  now.  But  they'd  lose  it  again.  What  can  you 
do  with  a  trail  that  takes  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump 
every  other  day  down  fifty  miles  of  river?  They 
might  just  as  well  have  come  back  with  us,  but  you 
couldn't  tell  that  to  Boulton.  He  surprised  me.  Of 
course,  I  knew  that  he  fancied  the  girl,  but  never  ex 
pected  he  would  have  taken  it  as  hard  as  he  did. 
Though  it  sounds  cruel,  it  is  really  the  best  thing  that 
could  have  happened  for  him.  She'd  have  made 
him  most  beautifully  miserable,  and  he'll  soon  get 
over  it — that  is,  if  they  don't  overtake  them.  If 
they  do — "  He  shook  a  grave  head.  "It  is  only  in 
story  books  that  a  lover  succeeds  in  stealing  his 
sweetheart  out  of  an  Indian  camp." 

"  Yes,  I  wish  we  had  news  of  them,"  David  echoed 
his  doubt. 

34  521 


THE    PLANTER 

They  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  as,  after  supper, 
Ewing  busied  himself  over  the  brew  of  punch,  a  shout 
rose  outside,  and  Carruthers  reined  in  at  the  door. 
Streaming  out  through  the  doorway,  the  lamplight 
showed  his  face  thin  and  deep-graven  with  haggard 
lines.  His  eyes  shone  fever-bright.  But  his  cheery 
spirit  remained  undiminished,  and  he  laughed  pro- 
testingly  against  their  welcoming  punches. 

"  Here,  here,  that's  no  way  to  treat  a  fellow  who 
has  lost  the  ability  to  cast  a  shadow !  Quit  it  before  I 
get  spinal  curvature!"  But  he  sobered  when  they 
demanded  news.  "Yes,  yes,  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it  after  my  horse  is  stabled — too  long  to  give  it  out 
here." 

With  its  details  of  forced  marches,  heart-breaking 
waits,  devours,  and  back- tracking  upon  false  scents, 
not  to  mention  frequent  digressions  upon  the  teak, 
mahogany,  and  other  rare  woods  which  had  excited 
his  American  instinct  for  commerce,  it  was  a  long 
tale  that  he  told  while  sipping  his  punch.  The  brew 
stood  low  in  the  bowl,  and  from  its  first  fresh  bright 
ness  the  lamp  burned  smoky  gold  before  he  came  to 
its  climax. 

"Nonsense."  He  dismissed  El  Impartial.  "They 
were  frontier  guards,  ran  at  the  first  shot,  and  were 
still  shivering  when  we  saw  them  two  days  later.  In 
their  imaginations  your  big  Yaqui,  Davy,  loomed  as 
a  demon  of  enormous  size,  and  they  plead  with  us 
not  to  go  on,  swearing  that  he  would  kill  us,  which  I 
felt  to  be  likely  enough.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  what 

522 


THE   REALIZATION    OF    A    DREAM 

of  hunger  and  heat — we  didn't  average  much  more 
than  a  meal  a  day — I  was  willing  enough  to  quit,  but 
Boulton  would  have  gone  on  alone,  and  of  course  I 
couldn't  leave  him. 

"It  wasn't  that  he  was  so  deeply  in  love.  They 
used  to  scuffle  a  bit  at  La  Luna,  with  a  few  kisses 
thrown  in  for  luck  when  nobody  looked,  but  if  she'd 
gone  in  the  usual  way,  married  the  other  fellow  or 
left  the  country,  I  don't  believe  he'd  have  fallen  off 
in  his  eating.  It  was  the  way  she  went.  In  novels 
it  is  quite  the  usual  thing,  I  know,  for  young  women 
to  be  carried  away  and  return  from  a  long  sojourn 
among  Indians  in  a  state  of  pristine  innocence;  but 
he  labored  under  no  such  hallucinations,  and  the 
horror  of  it  drove  him  stark  staring  mad  for  the  time 
being.  Indeed,  I  don't  believe  that  anything  else 
but  that  which  actually  occurred  could  have  given 
him  back  his  senses. 

"It  was  this  way.  Crossing  into  Honduras,  we 
were  guided  by  a  Guatemala  Indian  at  whose  village 
the  Yaquis  had  camped  the  week  before;  for  down 
there,  as  up  here,  the  volunteers  have  no  love  for  the 
planter,  helped  them  along  from  village  to  village. 
It  took  fifty  dollars  to  persuade  this  man  to  our  ser 
vice,  nor  would  he  go  a  step  farther,  when,  after  three 
days'  fast  going  in  a  hill  country  sparsely  forested, 
we  came,  one  night,  on  the  warm  ashes  of  their  last 
camp.  Because  the  few  rivers  we  had  lately  crossed 
ran  without  exception  west,  they  were  now  travelling 
slowly,  hunting  and  fishing  as  they  went;  and  if  the 

523 


THE    PLANTER 

Guatemalian  had  remained  with  us — but  he  didn't, 
and  so,  shoving  hotly  forward  through  the  dusk  of 
the  following  evening,  we  almost  walked  into  their 
camp,  would  have  but  for  a  sudden  burst  of  woman's 
laughter. 

"  I  will  say  this  much  for  ourselves — -the  camp  was 
pitched  on  a  sand  playa  under  the  bank  of  a  wide 
river  which  effectually  hid  their  cooking-fires.  Heavy 
thickets  screened  us  from  view,  and  we  dropped  like 
dead  men  flat  on  our  bellies.  My  impulse  was  to 
crawl  away,  but  Boulton  had  already  wormed  into  the 
thicket,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  follow. 

"I  suppose  one  can  never  escape  the  influence  of 
the  Indian  yarns  he  reads  in  his  youth — scalpings, 
torture,  and  all  that;  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the 
scene  which  opened  before  us  after  a  few  minutes' 
crawling  lacked  even  a  taint  of  Fenimore  Cooper. 
Imagine  a  smooth  playa  with  a  gleam  of  wide  water 
beyond  fading  into  brown  dusk  at  the  opposite  shore. 
On  its  edge  a  score  or  so  of  Yaquis  were  at  work  on 
a  raft,  and  about  the  same  number  of  women  were 
grouped  about  the  fires,  for  in  addition  to  the  squaws 
who  had  worked  in  Hertzer's  cook-house  they  had 
taken  their  pick  out  of  a  dozen  galeras.  Yet,  looking 
them  over,  a  stranger  could  not  have  singled  out  the 
prisoners,  for  they  moved  with  perfect  freedom  in 
and  out  of  the  jungle,  over  to  the  water's  edge,  back 
to  the  fires,  laughing  and  chatting,  apparently  con 
tented.  And  small  wonder  if  they  were.  After  the 
slavery  of  the  plantations,  the  peace,  ease,  freedom 

524 


THE   REALIZATION    OF   A    DREAM 

of  that  warm  gloaming  must  have  seemed  like  heaven 
itself.  I  felt  it,  then,  without  having  time  to  think, 
for  my  eyes  had  gone  at  once  to  Patricia,  who  sat  with 
Phelps'  Lola  and  two  Yaqui  women  at  the  nearest  fire. 

"  It  was  their  laughter  we  had  heard,  and  while  we 
lay  there  looking  on,  so  close  that  I  could  have  pitched 
a  stone  in  Patricia's  lap,  they  broke  out  again  at  a 
point  in  the  story  one  of  the  Yaquis  was  telling  with 
hands,  eyes,  irradiance  of  brown  smiles,  as  much  as 
by  words;  and,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  Patricia 
laughed  the  loudest.  Rocking  back  and  forth,  she 
slapped  her  thighs  in  one  of  the  old  uncontrollable 
fits  of  mirth,  rocked  and  slapped  until  little  Felice — 
with  whom  she  had  evidently  been  playing — tagged 
her  shoulder  from  behind. 

"  Rising,  she  then  chased  the  little  thing,  shrieking 
with  laughter,  across  the  play  a  toward  the  raft- 
builders,  who  paused  to  observe  their  play.  Instead 
of  returning  at  once  when  she  caught  her,  they  stood 
for  a  while,  hand  in  hand,  looking  on  at  the  work, 
and  though  I  could  not  see  her  face,  her  whole  atti 
tude  bespoke  keen  interest.  Once  she  spoke,  and  here 
my  ideas  of  Indian  nature  underwent  further  recon 
struction.  There  was  no  hate  in  the  face  of  the  man 
who  looked  up  to  answer.  Stooping,  he  patted  the 
child's  head,  and  when,  at  last,  Patricia  returned  to 
the  fire,  neither  fear  nor  aversion  showed  on  her 
face.  Its  calm,  on  the  contrary,  bordered  on  con 
tent,  and  as  I  lay  there  studying  her,  I  sensed,  with 
out  being  able  to  locate  it,  a  radical  change. 

525 


THE   PLANTER 

"  It  wasn't  that  she  was  sunburned  or  thinner — 
that  would  have  made  toward  refinement,  for  you'll 
remember  that  she  erred  toward  voluptousness. 
Neither  was  it  due  to  the  white  chemisette  and  red 
Tehauna  skirt  which  replaced  her  own  clothing; 
nor  homesickness,  for,  as  I  say,  her  calm  bordered  on 
content.  But  while  I  watched  she  solved  the  puzzle 
herself.  When,  suddenly  squatting,  she  began  to 
tear  a  piece  of  meat  she  had  fished  from  a  cooking-pot 
into  bits  with  her  fingers,  I  knew — the  squaw  habit 
and  posture  told  their  tale — that  the  blood  had  as 
serted  itself,  she  had  gone  back  to  her  mother's  peo 
ple.  After  that  her  every  gesture  breathed  of  mean 
ing — the  toss  that  sent  her  hair  in  a  wave  back  from 
her  face  over  naked  arms  and  shoulders,  her  easy 
flexures  reaching  to  the  pot,  her  laugh  which,  always 
wild,  had  lowered  a  full  tone  and  issued  with  a  throaty 
coo.  In  the  splendor  of  her  savagery  she  was  in 
finitely  wilder  than  Lola,  the  Tehuana,  who  sat  by 
her  side.  That,  however,  did  not  total  the  change. 
Beyond  it  I  sensed  something  other,  a  something  so 
subtle  that  it  defied  my  analysis  until,  glancing  side 
ways,  I  glimpsed  Boulton's  eyes,  sick  and  uneasy  in 
the  midst  of  his  red  shamed  face.  Then  it  flashed 
upon  me — it  was  the  content  of  a  mated  woman,  soft 
sensuousness  of  young  wifehood  that  enveloped  her 
like  a  mist. 

"'Come  away!'  his  eyes  said,  and  as  I  crawled 
after  him  back  through  the  thicket,  I  knew  that  we 
were  turned  toward  home. 

526 


THE    REALIZATION    OF   A   DREAM 

"  And  now  I'll  have  to  confess  to  a  second  foolish 
ness.  Because  of  its  density,  we  had  left  our  rifles 
on  the  outer  edge  of  the  thicket,  and  though  the 
dusk  had  thickened,  there  was  still  light  enough  to  see, 
not  only  that  they  were  gone,  but  also  the  ugly  black 
muzzles  that  stared  us  from  every  bush. 

"  I'll  confess  to  a  mortal  funk.  It  came  so  blamed 
sudden  I  hadn't  time  to  grip  my  nerves,  and  every 
muscle  contracted  anticipating  the  tearing  shock 
of  heavy  bullets.  Each  second  I  expected  a  burst 
of  flame,  but  the  muzzles  held  us  with  their  unblink 
ing  stare  until,  just  as  I  was  dying  my  seventh 
death,  your  big  Yaqui,  Davy,  came  sauntering  out 
from  behind  a  bush. 

"  You  had  him  here  at  Verda  for  a  long  time,  but 
you  never  really  saw  him.  The  difference  between 
the  silent  hulk  you  knew  and  this  man  who  towered 
above  me  in  the  dusk  was  wider  than  that  between 
the  tame  cats  of  a  menagerie  and  a  royal  tiger  loose 
in  the  jungle.  He  moved  with  the  easy  swing  of 
authority.  Loomed  so  large  that  I  felt  small,  and 
shrank  a  couple  more  sizes  when  he  spoke. 

"'So  it  is  you,  Senor  Carruthers,  who  makes  such 
a  noise  in  the  forest,  scaring  the  deer  for  miles  around  ?' 

"  Think  of  it !  And  we  priding  ourselves  all  the  while 
on  our  Injun  stealth!  But  I  was  too  busy  wondering 
whether  we  were  to  be  plain  shot  or  have  our  necks 
twisted,  after  the  fashion  of  Hertzer's  veledor,  to  feel 
the  insult.  When,  turning,  he  bade  us  follow,  I  made 
up  my  mind  for  the  latter,  already  felt  the  crick  in 

527 


THE    PLANTER 

my  neck.  But  it  was  merely  preliminary  to  the 
hardest  walk  of  my  life.  Striding  ahead,  he  led  on 
hour  after  hour  through  the  dark  forest,  nor  paused 
until,  at  midnight,  we  emerged  on  a  trail  that  led 
down  through  a  moonlit  valley.  In  all  that  time  he 
had  not  looked  back,  nor  was  it  necessary,  for  if 
either  of  us  lagged,  the  thrust  of  a  rifle  barrel  from 
behind  admonished  him  forward.  Now  he  spoke 
for  the  second  and  last  time. 

"'You  were  friendly  to  Don  David.  Take  your 
lives  back  to  him.'  Then,  while  we  stood  staring, 
all  blown  and  sweating,  he  turned  and  vanished  in 
the  forest." 

In  spite  of  his  light  tone,  the  suspense  of  that  black 
march  had  made  itself  felt  in  Carruthers'  manner, 
and  now,  concluding,  he  sat  staring  at  the  lamp. 
Even  for  the  tropics,  where  romance  and  reality  are 
wedded  and  death  lies  ever  in  ambush,  the  matter 
of  his  tale  was  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  for  a  long 
while  the  three  sat  in  silence,  each  busy  with  his 
thoughts. 

"Well,"  Ewing  spoke  at  last,  "she  has  gone  back 
to  her  own.  Nell  always  said  that  she  would.  Do 
you  remember,  Davy,  the  day  we  saw  her  in  the  La 
Luna  cook-house?" 

It  was  even  then  in  his  mind — Patricia  squatted 
opposite  the  swart  headwoman,  long  hair  flowing 
down  the  fire  of  her  kimona  to  sweep  the  dust  as  she 
leaned  to  scoop  frijoles  out  of  the  dish ;  and  to  com 
plete  the  barbaric  picture,  came  a  vivid  memory  of 

5*8 


THE    REALIZATION   OF   A   DREAM 

her  garrulous  speech,  unlike  in  both  tone  and  accent 
the  spaced  cadence  of  her  convent  speech. 

"And  what's  to  be  the  end?"  he  asked,  nodding. 

Carruthers  came  out  of  his  brown  study.  "  They'll 
join  with  some  Central  American  tribe,  or  make  a 
place  for  themselves;  plenty  of  room  down  there." 

"And  Hertzer's  blood  will  help  them  to  hold  it," 
Ewing  musingly  added.  "  Queer  to  think  of,  isn't  it  ?" 

It  was — strange  to  think  that  a  mixture  of  his  strong 
blood  might  stiffen  a  people  to  hold  back  for  a  space, 
perhaps  a  generation,  the  van  of  a  greedy  commer 
cialism.  The  thought  held  them  for  another  silence. 

"  I  don't  know  but  that  it  has  all  worked  out  for 
the  best,"  Ewing  finally  commented.  "  Now  for  one 
last  glass  and  then  to  bed.  To-morrow  is  Davy's 
busy  day." 

"His  happy  day,"  Carruthers  added.  "To  you 
both,  Davy!" 

Morning  saw  the  three  on  the  way  to  Las  Glorias, 
riding  through  heat  that  caused  Ewing  to  exclaim 
at  David's  luck  in  vacations. 

"None  of  your  pity,  sir,"  he  said,  mopping  his 
parboiled  face.  "Only  one  more  month  before  the 
blessed  rains,  and  think  of  the  fun  that  Nell  and  I  will 
have  up  North  after  you  come  back.  Fancy  us  at 
supper  some  night  after  the  play — Sherry's,  Del- 
monico's,  any  old  place  that  the  good  uncle  may 
take  a  notion  to  blow  himself — fancy  me  jogging  Nell's 
elbow,  '  Hum,  my  dear,  just  think  of  Davy  stewing 

529 


THE   PLANTER 

in  his  own  grease  down  there  in  the  tropics.'     To  all 
men  revenge  cometh  in  its  own  good  time." 

In  that  the  last  stitch  was  taken  as  they  rode  up 
to  the  house,  Mrs.  Ewing  may  be  held  to  have  lived 
in  the  strict  letter  of  her  promise.  It  remained  only 
to  parade  Consuela  in  a  neat  travelling  dress,  jacket 
and  skirt  of  cream  serge,  innocent  of  any  other  trim 
ming  than  the  shy  smiles  which  glowed  in  the  shadow 
of  a  soft  unblocked  Panama  hat. 

"So  simple  and  yet  so  stylish."  As  she  turned 
the  girl  round  and  round  before  the  three  pairs  of 
admiring  eyes,  Mrs.  Ewing  sighed  her  satisfaction. 
"  And  a  perfect  fit.  But  she's  not  to  wear  it  down 
river,  Davy.  Khaki  is  good  enough  for  that.  She 
can  slip  it  on  before  you  go  to  church,  but  see  that  she 
changes  it  when  you  go  back  to  the  boat.  It  is  all 
she  has  to  wear  on  the  steamer."  Which  little  speech 
foreshadows  plans  that  were  to  be  the  realization  of 
a  dream;  that  which  David  dreamed  the  night  he  lay 
in  the  roots  of  the  great  saber  awaiting  the  runaway 
Yaqui  out  in  the  jungle. 

Alone  they  two  would  drift  down  to  the  priest  at 
San  Juan;  then  re-embark  and  drift  or  tie-up  to  the 
bank  as  the  mood  suited,  drift  at  the  will  of  the  river, 
follow  its  myriad  sinuosities  past  the  sand  playas 
where  saurians  take  their  torrid  siesta,  with  always 
the  broidered  screen  of  the  jungle  on  either  hand; 
drift,  drift  lazy  days  down  to  the  Gulf,  from  where  a 
coasting-steamer  would  take  them  to  the  Ward  Liner 
at  Vera  Cruz  for  passage  to  New  York. 

530 


THE    REALIZATION   OF   A   DREAM 

It  began,  the  dream,  three  hours  later,  for  though 
the  travelling  would  be  done  thereafter  principally  by 
moonlight,  they  wished  to  pass  Verda  by  day.  It  began 
with  the  usual  tribute  of  bright  tears  from  the  women, 
the  vigorous  handshakes  which  belied  the  superb 
indifference  of  the  men.  Indeed,  David's  hand  still 
tingled  when,  at  sundown,  a  blast  of  his  conch-shell 
brought  out  Verda,  men,  maids,  women,  and  children, 
to  illumine  the  bank  with  sunshine  of  brown  smiles. 
All  the  way  down  David  had  cast  a  vigorous  pole, 
but  now  he  let  the  dugout  drift;  and  as  he  stood 
leaning  upon  his  pole  a  sweet  voice  came  from  astern 
quivering  with  pride  beneath  its  archness. 

"  And  now,  senor,  look  at  your  work." 

Warmed  by  the  sunset,  the  long  array  of  happy 
faces  was  surely  worth  a  glance,  and  small  wonder  if 
David's  face  reflected  their  glow.  Not  that  he  either 
overestimated  accomplishment  or  belittled  that  which 
remained  to  do.  Well  he  knew  the  pains  by  which 
these  good  beginnings  could  alone  be  brought  to 
fruition;  the  patience,  care,  love  seasoned  with 
severity;  given  which,  in  fullest  measure,  time  would 
still  be  required  to  root  them  to  the  soil.  But  fore 
seeing  it  all,  he  had  faith  in  himself  and  them,  and 
while  the  boat  drifted,  he  stood,  the  man  face  to  face 
with  his  work  and  able  to  call  it  good. 

Just  as  they  floated  opposite,  came  a  splash  like 
that  of  alighting  ducks,  and,  naked  and  unashamed, 
Consuela's  pupils  came  shooting  out  from  the  bank 
with  Anita,  the  future  bookkeeper,  well  in  the  lead. 


THE   PLANTER 

Not  one  would  turn  till  Consuela  had  caressed  each 
of  twenty  small  wet  heads.  Indeed,  the  Buena  for- 
tunas,  Felicidadis,  Hasta  luegos,  even  Magdalene's 
roaring  Vivas!  were  growing  faint  in  the  distance 
before  they  shot  like  a  school  of  brown  minnows  back 
to  the  bank. 

Once  around  the  bend,  David  struck  in  his  pole 
again;  but  though  he  was  long  ago  broken  to  its  use, 
it  cannot  be  urged  that  he  made  any  records.  For 
temptation  sat  astern.  Progress  was  delayed  by 
frequent  rests  when,  nestling  in  to  his  shoulder, 
Consuela  chattered,  planning  for  their  future,  or 
prattled  of  their  house,  indulging  her  woman's  humor 
by  arranging  its  furniture  in  a  hundred  different  ways. 
With  many  such  lapses  they  glided  down-stream, 
sometimes  poling,  sometimes  drifting  through  the 
blood-red  sunset  reflections  which  presently  deepened 
into  gleaming  sable.  Out  of  the  clamor  of  twilight 
they  drifted  into  the  silence  of  night,  then  the  moon 
peeped  at  them  over  the  trees;  thereafter  laid  a  silver 
path  for  their  guidance  across  the  dark  waters,  down 
which  they  glided  until  Consuela' s  sudden  shiver 
brought  a  pause  to  the  dream — industrious  while  David 
was  idle,  the  current  had  brought  them  to  La  Luna. 

High  above  them  the  bank  upreared,  a  monolithic 
mass  crowned  with  a  bristle  of  dead  trees.  Moving 
elsewhere  softly  as  a  sigh,  perfumed  breath  of  the 
jungle,  the  night  wind  here  rustled  harshly,  laden  with 
stale  odors  of  burning.  As  he  drew  her  closer,  David 
saw  that  Consuela's  lips  were  moving  and  sensed  her 

S32 


THE    REALIZATION   OF   A   DREAM 

prayer  for  the  hard  man  who  lay  out  there  in  the 
peace  of  moonlight,  and  while  they  drifted  its  length, 
they  came  again,  he  and  his  dead  slaves,  to  people 
the  ghostly  plantation. 

As  on  his  first  evening  at  La  Luna,  David  heard 
Hertzer's  stern  voice  booming  out  orders  for  Carmen; 
saw  him  come  swinging  down  the  path  to  the  landing 
with  Phelps — Phelps,  who  was  now  thousands  of 
miles  away  in  England.  He  could  see  the  log  upon 
which  he  had  sat  while  Ewing  gave  him  first  warning ; 
he  heard  Patricia's  laugh  stir  hollow  echos  in  the  dark 
silence  of  the  galera.  A  long  succession  of  memories 
brought  him  again  upon  the  veranda  in  company  with 
Patricia.  Now  he  was  looking  down  upon  Consuela 
in  the  freight  canoe  below. 

"  It  was  here  that  I  caught  thy  kiss." 

He  awoke  to  knowledge  of  the  river,  a  stream  of 
silver  flowing  once  more  between  dark  walls  of 
jungle — La  Luna  lay  behind.  "Then  you  did  catch 
it  ?"  he  laughed.  "  You  told  me—" 

A  small  hand  smothered  further  speech.  "  Some 
things  may  be  told  to  husbands  that  are  not  good  for 
lovers  to  hear.  Surely  I  caught  it — and  kept  it  all  this 
time  to  give  it  back  to  thee.  There!  And  now  for 
some  more  poling — if  ever  we  are  to  reach  San  Juan  ?" 

"  And  you  must  go  to  sleep,  or  I  shall  have  a  wan 
bride  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  rising;  and  albeit  with 
many  protestations  that  she  would  rather  stay  out 
in  the  moonlight,  she  went  to  her  rest  under  the  tent 
cover  he  rigged  across  the  dugout. 

533 


THE   PLANTER 

For  hours  thereafter  he  drove  on  down  the  silver 
river,  pausing  only  on  occasion  to  catch  her  gentle 
breathing.  Carruthers'  place,  Boulton's,  Yerba  Buena, 
and  other  plantations  flashed  pale  gold  roofs  out  of 
the  black  jungle,  to  sink  again  in  his  rear.  Oblivious 
of  time  in  his  happy  dreaming,  he  watched  the  moon 
sail  round  her  circle  and  dip  down  behind  the  trees. 
Even  then  he  drove  on  through  the  darkness,  nor 
rested  till  he  saw  that  the  pace  would  fetch  San  Juan 
before  morning.  Sitting  down  then,  one  hand  on  the 
steering  sweep  that  was  lashed  in  the  crotch  astern, 
he  continued  his  dreaming.  He  did  not  feel  sleepy, 
yet,  awakening  at  a  shy  touch,  he  found  Consuela 
smiling  down  upon  him,  not  she  of  the  khaki  dress, 
but  a  delicate  dark  beauty  in  the  cream  serge  of  Mrs. 
Ewing's  solemn  warning;  and  there,  dead  ahead,  the 
parti-colored  adobes  of  San  Juan  were  flaming  in  the  sun. 

Situated  on  a  grassy  plain  at  the  confluence  of  two 
rivers,  the  town  was  still  within  call  of  the  jungle, 
and  as  they  made  their  way  to  the  church,  the  wood- 
dove's  gentle  call  thrilled  out  on  the  fresh  morning  air. 
Arriving  a  quarter-hour  before  first  mass,  there  was 
just  time  for  Consuela  to  make  her  confession,  and 
while  she  kneeled  at  the  grating,  David  stood  at  a 
distance  wondering,  after  the  fashion  of  true  lovers, 
what  she  could  possibly  find  to  confess.  Perhaps  the 
priest,  too,  smiled  at  her  list  of  small  vanities;  at 
least,  he  did  her  a  service  by  lifting  a  remorseful  doubt 
from  her  heart. 

"That  surely  was  sin,  daughter,"  he  chid  her  when 
534 


THE   REALIZATION    OF    A    DREAM 

she  told  of  having  exulted  in  her  power  over  Hertzer, 
"  but  of  all  else  thou  art  free.  He  died  of  his  own  evil." 

So  she  brought  back  to  David  a  face  so  calmly 
serene  that  while  he  might  still  have  his  doubts  as  to 
her  need,  he  was  obliged  to  admit  the  efficacy  of  her 
confession.  Taking  his  seat  beside  her,  he  sat  with 
bowed  head  in  the  grotto  cool  of  the  church,  aware 
of  the  perfume  of  incense,  shuffling  of  naked  feet, 
intoning  of  the  priest  celebrating  the  mass,  silver 
crash  of  bells  that  announced  the  "consecration." 
It  was  a  strange  atmosphere  for  the  son  of  his  Puritan 
mother,  yet  when,  at  the  close  of  the  mass,  they  fol 
lowed  the  priest  into  the  sacristy,  he  experienced  in 
full  measure  the  feeling  of  cleanness,  purification  of 
sense  he  had  felt  after  many  a  good  sermon  at  home. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  walked  hand  in  hand  down 
the  steps,  and  as  they  passed  through  the  streets,  re 
traced  the  grassy  plain  to  the  boat,  they  smiled, 
whenever  their  eyes  met,  with  the  shy  happiness  of 
children.  They  had  still  three  hours  before  the  heat 
would  drive  them  off  the  river,  and  during  the  last 
hour  David  looked  continually  for  a  suitable  landing. 
But  Consuela  spied  it  first.  Turning  at  her  exclama 
tion,  he  saw  a  backwater  open  up  behind  them,  a 
long  strip  of  green  water,  smooth  as  silk  ribbon,  with 
a  diminutive  playa  at  its  end  running  back  into  the 
black  shade  of  a  banyan.  Eden  itself  could  not  have 
furnished  a  pleasanter  bower,  or  its  first  inhabitants 
have  been  happier  than  they  in  setting  up  their  first 
housekeeping.  While  David  built  a  fire,  she  carried 

535 


THE    PLANTER 

utensils  and  packages  up  from  the  boat — all  save  one 
which  caused  him  a  grunt  of  surprise  by  its  unsus 
pected  weight. 

"Presently,  presently,"  she  put  him  off,  laughing, 
when  he  asked  what  it  was,  and  sent  him  away  to 
spread  their  zarapes  far  back  in  the  shade  on  a  soft 
cool  couch  of  sand;  and  when  he  came  back — there 
was  she,  sleeves  rolled  above  white  elbows,  on  her 
knees  before  a  stone  metate.  "  To  grind  the  tortillas 
for  thee,  my  husband!"  she  cried,  with  a  happy  laugh 
that  did  not  hide  her  serious  intent.  Looking  down 
upon  her,  he  knew  it  for  a  consecration,  offering  of  the 
service  without  which  love  is  naught. 

And  while  he  watched  the  dimples  come  and  go  with 
her  rubbing,  she  told  how  she  had  dreamed  of  this  the 
day  she  sat  beside  him  while  he  rested  after  their 
hunting  in  the  jungle.  "I  shall  leave  it  here,"  she 
said,  patting  the  metate,  at  the  close  of  her  labors; 
adding,  with  piercing  sweetness  of  look  and  voice, 
"And  when,  some  day,  my  husband  forgets  that  he 
was  once  a  lover,  we  shall  come  again,  thou  and  I,  to 
this  dear  place  and  live  again  these  sweet  hours." 

"Then  we  shall  never  come,"  he  stoutly  assured 
her;  and  as  lover's  faith  dominated  woman's  wisdom, 
she  went  with  a  sigh  of  content  to  his  arms. 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

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